Two lovers came; of many a common thing

Two lovers came; of many a common thing
We talked; then in a ring
Drew toward the hearth; the winter daylight died,
And she was at his side;
He took, he stroked her hand.
That we might know
It is just so
Love loves, the cadence of our talk grew low,
The fire shot forth a brand.

Then we forgot the lovers; for the room
Was filling with a doom,
The pressure of a Presence that we felt
Had power with them that dwelt
In many a distant land
And with the dead,
No word we said
But in a stupor watched the firelight shed
Glow on the fondled hand.