Making a Feast

Ho! Friends and enemies of Pennyfields,

A feast is spread, and you are all invited.

Many tides have risen and retired

Since I left the fervid skies of my own country

For the thin skies and leaden streets of the West.

Long have I sojourned, seeking my desire,

Keeping my shop, and looking always with long eyes

At others’ guesting-tables, at whose top sat love.

From my cold corner

I have watched their feast of fondness, and my heart has flown away,

And has beaten like a lost bird at their windows,

And none would let him in.

But now, O honourables,

My window is alight, my room is warmed,

The table is set and the places are laid, and Love waits to greet you.