THE MEETING

The old coach-road through a common of furze,

With knolls of pine, ran white;

Berries of autumn, with thistles, and burrs,

And spider-threads, droop'd in the light.

The light in a thin blue veil peered sick;

The sheep grazed close and still;

The smoke of a farm by a yellow rick

Curled lazily under a hill.

No fly shook the round of the silver net;

No insect the swift bird chased;

Only two travellers moved and met

Across that hazy waste.

One was a girl with a babe that throve,

Her ruin and her bliss;

One was a youth with a lawless love,

Who clasped it the more for this.

The girl for her babe hummed prayerful speech;

The youth for his love did pray;

Each cast a wistful look on each,

And either went their way.