THE POOR MAN'S GUEST.

ONE came to me in royal guise

With banners flying fair and free

But many griefs had made me wise

And I refused to bow the knee.

Then one drew near who bore the flower

Of all the flowers of June and May;

But many griefs had lent me power

And I was strong to turn away.

Then came a beggar to my gate

With shoulders bowed to sorrow's pack,

So weary and so desolate

I had no heart to turn him back.

I let him share my board, my bed,

I warmed him in my shrinking breast,

I gave him all I had, and said:

“You, only you, have been my guest.

“Love passed in many a fair disguise

But never could an entrance win,

But you came in such piteous wise,

Poor friend, I could but let you in.”

Low laughed my guest: “Kind friend!” said he,

And dropped the rags he was weary of;

And I, betrayed, saw over me

The terrible face of outraged Love.