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.