The Second Night

I missed one night, but the next I went;
&nbsp It was gusty above, and clear;
She was there, with the look of one ill-content,
&nbsp And said: “Do not come near!”

- “I am sorry last night to have failed you here,
&nbsp And now I have travelled all day;
And it’s long rowing back to the West-Hoe Pier,
&nbsp So brief must be my stay.”

- “O man of mystery, why not say
&nbsp Out plain to me all you mean?
Why you missed last night, and must now away
&nbsp Is - another has come between!”

- “ O woman so mocking in mood and mien,
&nbsp So be it!” I replied:
“And if I am due at a differing scene
&nbsp Before the dark has died,

“’Tis that, unresting, to wander wide
&nbsp Has ever been my plight,
And at least I have met you at Cremyll side
&nbsp If not last eve, to-night.”

- “You get small rest - that read I quite;
&nbsp And so do I, maybe;
Though there’s a rest hid safe from sight
&nbsp Elsewhere awaiting me!”

A mad star crossed the sky to the sea,
&nbsp Wasting in sparks as it streamed,
And when I looked to where stood she
&nbsp She had changed, much changed, it seemed:

The sparks of the star in her pupils gleamed,
&nbsp She was vague as a vapour now,
And ere of its meaning I had dreamed
&nbsp She’d vanished - I knew not how.

I stood on, long; each cliff-top bough,
&nbsp Like a cynic nodding there,
Moved up and down, though no man’s brow
&nbsp But mine met the wayward air.

Still stood I, wholly unaware
&nbsp Of what had come to pass,
Or had brought the secret of my new Fair
&nbsp To my old Love, alas!

I went down then by crag and grass
&nbsp To the boat wherein I had come.
Said the man with the oars: “This news of the lass
&nbsp Of Edgcumbe, is sharp for some!

“Yes: found this daybreak, stiff and numb
&nbsp On the shore here, whither she’d sped
To meet her lover last night in the glum,
&nbsp And he came not, ‘tis said.

“And she leapt down, heart-hit. Pity she’s dead:
&nbsp So much for the faithful-bent!” . . .
I looked, and again a star overhead
&nbsp Shot through the firmament.