The Contretemps Thomas Hardy

       &nbsp A forward rush by the lamp in the gloom,
       &nbsp       &nbsp And we clasped, and almost kissed;
       &nbsp But she was not the woman whom
       &nbsp I had promised to meet in the thawing brume
On that harbour-bridge; nor was I he of her tryst.

       &nbsp So loosening from me swift she said:
       &nbsp       &nbsp “O why, why feign to be
       &nbsp The one I had meant! - to whom I have sped
       &nbsp To fly with, being so sorrily wed!”
- ’Twas thus and thus that she upbraided me.

       &nbsp My assignation had struck upon
       &nbsp       &nbsp Some others’ like it, I found.
       &nbsp And her lover rose on the night anon;
       &nbsp And then her husband entered on
The lamplit, snowflaked, sloppiness around.

       &nbsp “Take her and welcome, man!” he cried:
       &nbsp       &nbsp “I wash my hands of her.
       &nbsp I’ll find me twice as good a bride!”
       &nbsp - All this to me, whom he had eyed,
Plainly, as his wife’s planned deliverer.

       &nbsp And next the lover: “Little I knew,
       &nbsp       &nbsp Madam, you had a third!
       &nbsp Kissing here in my very view!”
       &nbsp - Husband and lover then withdrew.
I let them; and I told them not they erred.