A motley couple they were deemed to be,

In love as strong as any by compare—

Though of that bond no worth could others see

Where eyes did oft in condemnation stare.

Perhaps in different times, a different age,

With love ordained or blessed by greater gods

They might not feel the ire of civil rage

Nor find their caring labeled quaint or odd;

But where does rare love ever find a place

That some convention does not press or bind

And why must human longing plead for grace,

When benediction seems itself half-blind?

Still of their union, none could ever say—

If they were truly happy, or just gay.