THE HOST
I had my enemy within my house.
My enemy—my arch, arch enemy.
I bound my handkerchief about his brows,
For he was wan and cried—"A Boon!" to me.
My enemy—my arch, arch enemy.
I bound my handkerchief about his brows,
For he was wan and cried—"A Boon!" to me.
Standing upon the threshold—wan, distraught.
His eyes filmed with the mist of sickness dim;
"He does not know it is my house!" (I thought)
"Salve!" I cried, and ran to welcome him.
His eyes filmed with the mist of sickness dim;
"He does not know it is my house!" (I thought)
"Salve!" I cried, and ran to welcome him.
He could not see nor hear; I spread my bed,
Thereon I made him lie all weakly down.
Blood ran into his eyes, from his rent head
Cut deep between the eyebrow and the crown.
Thereon I made him lie all weakly down.
Blood ran into his eyes, from his rent head
Cut deep between the eyebrow and the crown.
Quickly I ministered what grace I could:
Washed out the wound and bound it up with care;
Smoothing his kerchief as his mother would;
Laying my fingers gently through his hair.
Washed out the wound and bound it up with care;
Smoothing his kerchief as his mother would;
Laying my fingers gently through his hair.
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