Exmoor Verse: Saturn by Arthur Quiller-Couch

From my farm, from her farm
Furtively we came.
In either home a hearth was warm:
We nursed a hungrier flame.

Our feet were foul with mire,
Our faces blind with mist;
But all the night was naked fire
About us where we kiss’d.

To her farm, to my farm,
Loathing we returned;
Pale beneath a gallow’s arm
The planet Saturn burned.