The Missed Train

How I was caught Hieing home, after days of allure, And driven to an inn—small, obscure— At the junction, fret-fraught! How civil my face To get them to chamber me there— A roof I had passed scarce aware That it stood at the place. And how all the night I had dreams of the unwitting cause Of my lodgment. How lonely I was; How consoled by her sprite! Thus onetime to me Dim wastes of dead years bar away Then from now! But the like haps to-day To young lovers, may be. Years, years as gray seas, Truly, stretch now between! Less and less Shrink the visions then great in me.—Yes, Then in me. Now in these.