The poem
In the vaulted way, where the passage turned To the shadowy corner that none could see, You paused for our parting, - plaintively: Though overnight had come words that burned My fond frail happiness out of me.
And then I kissed you, - despite my thought That our spell must end when reflection came On what you had deemed me, whose one long aim Had been to serve you; that what I sought Lay not in a heart that could breathe such blame.
But yet I kissed you: whereon you again As of old kissed me. Why, why was it so? Do you cleave to me after that light-tongued blow? If you scorned me at eventide, how love then? The thing is dark, Dear. I do not know.