ONE came to me in royal guise <br />With banners flying fair and free <br />But many griefs had made me wise <br />And I refused to bow the knee. <br /> <br />Then one drew near who bore the flower <br />Of all the flowers of June and May; <br />But many griefs had lent me power <br />And I was strong to turn away. <br /> <br />Then came a beggar to my gate <br />With shoulders bowed to sorrow's pack, <br />So weary and so desolate <br />I had no heart to turn him back. <br /> <br />I let him share my board, my bed, <br />I warmed him in my shrinking breast, <br />I gave him all I had, and said: <br />'You, only you, have been my guest. <br /> <br />'Love passed in many a fair disguise <br />But never could an entrance win, <br />But you came in such piteous wise, <br />Poor friend, I could but let you in.' <br /> <br />Low laughed my guest: 'Kind friend!' said he, <br />And dropped the rags he was weary of; <br />And I, betrayed, saw over me <br />The terrible face of outraged Love.<br /><br />Edith Nesbit<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/the-poor-man-s-guest/
