Thomas Humphry Ward, ed. The English Poets. 1880–1918.rnVol. V. Browning to Rupert Brooke

Mary Elizabeth Coleridge (1861–1907)

Unwelcome

WE were young, we were merry, we were very very wise,

And the door stood open at our feast,

When there passed us a woman with the West in her eyes

And a man with his back to the East.

O, still grew the hearts that were beating so fast,

The loudest voice was still.

The jest died away on our lips as they passed,

And the rays of July struck chill.

The cups of red wine turned pale on the board,

The white bread black as soot.

The hound forgot the hand of her lord,

She fell down at his foot.

Low let me lie where the dead dog lies,

Ere I sit me down again at a feast,

When there passes a woman with the West in her eyes

And a man with his back to the East.