The Conformers

&nbsp Yes; we'll wed, my little fay,
&nbsp And you shall write you mine,
And in a villa chastely gray
&nbsp We'll house, and sleep, and dine.
&nbsp But those night-screened, divine,
&nbsp Stolen trysts of heretofore,
We of choice ecstasies and fine
&nbsp       &nbsp Shall know no more.

&nbsp The formal faced cohue
&nbsp Will then no more upbraid
With smiting smiles and whisperings two
&nbsp Who have thrown less loves in shade.
&nbsp We shall no more evade
&nbsp The searching light of the sun,
Our game of passion will be played,
&nbsp       &nbsp Our dreaming done.

&nbsp We shall not go in stealth
&nbsp To rendezvous unknown,
But friends will ask me of your health,
&nbsp And you about my own.
&nbsp When we abide alone,
&nbsp No leapings each to each,
But syllables in frigid tone
&nbsp       &nbsp Of household speech.

&nbsp When down to dust we glide
&nbsp Men will not say askance,
As now: "How all the country side
&nbsp Rings with their mad romance!"
&nbsp But as they graveward glance
&nbsp Remark: "In them we lose
A worthy pair, who helped advance
&nbsp       &nbsp Sound parish views."