I stumbled over this poem this morning, and it seemed apt for this place — by Thomas Hardy:

Never a careworn wife but shows
If a joy suffuse her,
Something beautiful to those
Patient to peruse her,
Some one charm the world unknows
Precious to a muser,
Haply what, ere years were foes,
Moved her mate to choose her.

(I won’t quote the second stanza here because, most Hardy-ishly, it’s a bit of a downer :-).

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