At dinner, she is hostess, I am host. <br />Went the feast ever cheerfuller? She keeps <br />The Topic over intellectual deeps <br />In buoyancy afloat. They see no ghost. <br />With sparkling surface-eyes we ply the ball: <br />It is in truth a most contagious game: <br />HIDING THE SKELETON, shall be its name. <br />Such play as this the devils might appal! <br />But here's the greater wonder; in that we, <br />Enamoured of an acting nought can tire, <br />Each other, like true hypocrites, admire; <br />Warm-lighted looks, Love's ephemerioe, <br />Shoot gaily o'er the dishes and the wine. <br />We waken envy of our happy lot. <br />Fast, sweet, and golden, shows the marriage-knot. <br />Dear guests, you now have seen Love's corpse-light shine.<br /><br />George Meredith<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/modern-love-xvii-at-dinner-she-is-hostess/
