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!

THE SLOW NATURE

(AN INCIDENT OF FROOM VALLEY)

“THY husband—poor, poor Heart!—is dead—

Dead, out by Moreford Rise;

A bull escaped the barton-shed,

Gored him, and there he lies!”

—“Ha, ha—go away! ’Tis a tale, methink,

Thou joker Kit!” laughed she.

“I’ve known thee many a year, Kit Twink,

And ever hast thou fooled me!”

—“But, Mistress Damon—I can swear

Thy goodman John is dead!

And soon th’lt hear their feet who bear

His body to his bed.”

So unwontedly sad was the merry man’s face—

That face which had long deceived—

That she gazed and gazed; and then could trace

The truth there; and she believed.

She laid a hand on the dresser-ledge,

And scanned far Egdon-side;

And stood; and you heard the wind-swept sedge

And the rippling Froom; till she cried:

“O my chamber’s untidied, unmade my bed

Though the day has begun to wear!

‘What a slovenly hussif!’ it will be said,

When they all go up my stair!”

She disappeared; and the joker stood

Depressed by his neighbour’s doom,

And amazed that a wife struck to widowhood

Thought first of her unkempt room.

But a fortnight thence she could take no food,

And she pined in a slow decay;

While Kit soon lost his mournful mood

And laughed in his ancient way.

1894.

Wessex Poems and Other Verses · 第 27 / 32 题