It is a narrow inn, shall I confess? But amply broad enough for weariness. No lights flare out a welcome; but what cheer, What flowing sweet tranquillity is here! All silent is the caravansery, And no obsequious landlord welcomes me. A-weary from the ways of toil and sin, Through one half-open door I stumble in. Soft on the yielding floor I sink and fall, The only guest in that mysterious hall. Unseen, unheard, the servants come and go, And weave a weird bewitchment to and fro. A noiseless butler pours a shadowy wine, And witless, prone upon my back, I dine. Smooth hands caress me, reached I know not whence, And lay a subtle charm on every sense. Kind porters come a-tiptoe, grave and gray, And bear my heavy burdens all away. What passes there I never rightly ken, So strange the place from all the modes of men. But whether more or little understood, I hereby testify the inn is good. And if, as gossip rumors all agree, This landlord keeps another hostelry, Where, at the end of my last journey, I A little longer while am like to lie, I'll know that second inn is kind as this, And greet its narrow doorway with a kiss. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE AFRICAN CHIEF by WILLIAM CULLEN BRYANT A FAREWELL TO TOBACCO by CHARLES LAMB THE OLD MAN'S WISH by WALTER POPE IN SCHOOL-DAYS by JOHN GREENLEAF WHITTIER THE MUSICAL CONQUERERS by PHILIP AYRES THE IVORY GATE; LOVE-IN-IDLENESS by THOMAS LOVELL BEDDOES THE WATER-SPRINGS by WILLIAM ROSE BENET TO --, WITH ARTHUR AND ALBINA by MATILDA BARBARA BETHAM-EDWARDS |