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.