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!