Their cheeks on fire, their lips like flame.
And twined once more, mouth fused to mouth,
Before the bitter three months’ drouth.
She passed. Her candle shot with flares
The creaking mystery of the stairs.
The trooper watched each darling tread.
“A good night’s rest!” the farmer said.
“And where sleep I?” his guest spoke free,
Oh white was William Habberton!
“Soft, soft and deep your bed shall be!