Poetry Archives

I came to the crowded Inn of Earth,
   And called for a cup of wine,
But the Host went by with averted eye
   From a thirst as keen as mine.

Then I sat down with weariness
   And asked a bit of bread,
But the Host went by with averted eye
   And never a word he said.

While always from the outer night
   The waiting souls came in
With stifled cries of sharp surprise
   At all the light and din.

“Then give me a bed to sleep,” I said,
   “For midnight comes apace”—
But the Host went by with averted eye
And I never saw his face.

“Since there is neither food nor rest,
   I go where I fared before”—
But the Host went by with averted eye
   And barred the outer door.