Strange news! a city full? will none give way To lodge a guest that comes not every day? No inn, nor tavern void? yet I descry One empty place alone, where we may lie: In too much fullness is some want: but where? Men's empty hearts: let's ask for lodging there. But if they not admit us, then we'll say Their hearts, as well as inns, are made of clay. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...COLOGNE; EPIGRAM by SAMUEL TAYLOR COLERIDGE REVELATION by EDMUND WILLIAM GOSSE TO THE MOCKINGBIRD by RICHARD HENRY WILDE CRADLE SONG by THOMAS BAILEY ALDRICH PEARLS OF THE FAITH: 34. AL-'AZIZ by EDWIN ARNOLD DESCRIBES THE PLACE WHERE CYNTHIA IS SPORTING HERSELF by PHILIP AYRES |