Romance In The Market Place

YOU stood beside the flowers, Yourself a flower; And on your face The twilight stayed another hour, It shone so pale; And all around men talked as in a market-place. I heard them talk, and felt No interest stir In what they said. Lilies were nigh you, and around you were The lights of love, And all about the world moved on with nervous tread. I heard it not; for down And round about My soul you drew The veils that shut the loud earth out, And I and you Were there alone — no one beside but I and you! What words were those we said? Old ones, perchance, Pale with the pain Of all who've kissed, and talked romance, And said farewell, And mixed their tears and kissed, and sighed — and sighed in vain. We stood a sainted while, And then your hand Sought to be free, And you were gone; and all the land Was under gloom, And lamps were lit for other men, but none for me. I stood and watched you go, And suddenly The loud world grew Like some great-voiced, insetting sea; And men went by, Talking of trade and war and all but love and you.