At An Inn

WHEN we as strangers sought
        Their catering care,
     Veiled smiles bespoke their thought
        Of what we were.
     They warmed as they opined
        Us more than friends--
     That we had all resigned
        For love's dear ends.

     And that swift sympathy
        With living love
     Which quicks the world--maybe
        The spheres above,
     Made them our ministers,
        Moved them to say,
     "Ah, God, that bliss like theirs
        Would flush our day!"

     And we were left alone
        As Love's own pair;
     Yet never the love-light shone
        Between us there!
     But that which chilled the breath
        Of afternoon,
     And palsied unto death
        The pane-fly's tune.

     The kiss their zeal foretold,
        And now deemed come,
     Came not: within his hold
        Love lingered numb.
     Why cast he on our port
        A bloom not ours?
     Why shaped us for his sport
        In after-hours?

     As we seemed we were not
        That day afar,
     And now we seem not what
        We aching are.
     O severing sea and land,
        O laws of men,
     Ere death, once let us stand
        As we stood then!