Thomas Hardy - At the Altar-Rail lyrics

"My bride is not coming, alas!" says the groom, And the telegram shakes in his hand. "I own It was hurried! We met at a dancing-room When I went to the Cattle-Show alone, And then, next night, where the Fountain leaps, And the Street of the Quarter-Circle sweeps. "Ay, she won me to ask her to be my wife-- 'Twas foolish perhaps!--to forsake the ways Of the flaring town for a farmer's life. She agreed. And we fixed it. Now she says: It's sweet of you, dear, to prepare me a nest, But a swift, short, gay life suits me best. What I really am you have never gleaned; I had eaten the apple ere you were weaned."