CROSS-CURRENTS
They parted—a pallid, trembling I pair,
And rushing down the lane
He left her lonely near me there;
—I asked her of their pain.
“It is for ever,” at length she said,
“His friends have schemed it so,
That the long-purposed day to wed
Never shall we two know.”
“In such a cruel case,” said I,
“Love will contrive a course?”
“—Well, no . . . A thing may underlie,
Which robs that of its force;
“A thing I could not tell him of,
Though all the year I have tried;
This: never could I have given him love,
Even had I been his bride.
“So, when his kinsfolk stop the way
Point-blank, there could not be
A happening in the world to-day
More opportune for me!
“Yet hear—no doubt to your surprise—
I am sorry, for his sake,
That I have escaped the sacrifice
I was prepared to make!”
THE OLD NEIGHBOUR AND THE NEW
’Twas to greet the new rector I called I here,
But in the arm-chair I see
My old friend, for long years installed here,
Who palely nods to me.
The new man explains what he’s planning
In a smart and cheerful tone,
And I listen, the while that I’m scanning
The figure behind his own.