A STRANGER came to the door at eve, 
     And he spoke the bridegroom fair. 
He bore a green-white stick in his hand, 
     And, for all burden, care. 
He asked with the eyes more than the lips 
     For a shelter for the night, 
And he turned and looked at the road afar 
     Without a window light. 

The bridegroom came forth into the porch 
     With, ‘Let us look at the sky, 
And question what of the night to be, 
     Stranger, you and I.’
The woodbine leaves littered the yard, 
     The woodbine berries were blue, 
Autumn, yes, winter was in the wind; 
     ‘Stranger, I wish I knew.’

Within, the bride in the dusk alone 
     Bent over the open fire, 
Her face rose-red with the glowing coal 
     And the thought of the heart’s desire. 
The bridegroom looked at the weary road, 
     Yet saw but her within, 
And wished her heart in a case of gold 
     And pinned with a silver pin. 

The bridegroom thought it little to give 
     A dole of bread, a purse, 
A heartfelt prayer for the poor of God, 
     Or for the rich a curse; 
But whether or not a man was asked 
     To mar the love of two 
By harboring woe in the bridal house, 
     The bridegroom wished he knew.