H.
O . MEREDITH .
THE MOTOR
BUS.
LOW
did
we meet, my
love
and I,
1
We two
so bound
together ,
Blent
as
are blended
moor and
sky ,
Blue mist and purple heather ?
Of thousand
thousand
women
one,
One
of
a million
men ,
We nothing
did
till all was done ;
It happened
there
and
then
!
The
plunging
motor -bus
along
The worn
macadam
rocked ,
Top -hampered
by
the weary
throng
That home
to
dulness
flocked .
Wet waterproof , rain -beaded
fur,
Soaked
leather ,
steam
and
drip
!
And
under us
the
swishing whirr
Of wheels
that
hardly
grip .
The
stem ,
the leaf,
the
flower
of
love
Grew
swift about our seat,
And we forgot
the
cloud
above ;
The
coldness
of
our feet.
107