The moon was full, the air was sweet,
As I walked out to learn my fate.
I took the lane with flying feet
And stood by the old field gate.
I heard the church clock chiming deep,
And grudged the time that I must wait.
Would Katy her dear promise keep
And meet me by the old field gate?
'Twas but a year since first I met
My gentle, kindly, grey-eyed Kate.
She seemed to like me well, and yet
I trembled by the old field gate...
I heard her footsteps ringing clear,
Her murmur low: "My dear, I'm late!"
With eager hands I drew her near
The shadow by the old field gate.
A whispered plea to share my life;
Such stumbling words to supplicate!
And when she said she'd be my wife,
Oh, heaven was just an old field gate!
Peter Cliffe