Edmund Clarence Stedman, ed. (1833–1908). An American Anthology, 1787–1900. 1900.

By Harriet McEwenKimball

597 The Guest

SPEECHLESS Sorrow sat with me;

I was sighing wearily;

Lamp and fire were out; the rain

Wildly beat the window-pane.

In the dark I heard a knock,

And a hand was on the lock;

One in waiting spake to me,

Saying sweetly,

“I am come to sup with thee.”

All my room was dark and damp:

“Sorrow,” said I, “trim the lamp,

Light the fire, and cheer thy face,

Set the guest-chair in its place.”

And again I heard the knock;

In the dark I found the lock:—

“Enter, I have turned the key;

Enter, Stranger,

Who art come to sup with me.”

Opening wide the door he came,

But I could not speak his name;

In the guest-chair took his place,

But I could not see his face.

When my cheerful fire was beaming,

When my little lamp was gleaming,

And the feast was spread for three,

Lo, my MASTER

Was the Guest that supped with me!