Poems (Denver)/The Unbidden Guest

by Mary Caroline Denver

THE UNBIDDEN GUEST.

With stealthy step, through the half-open door.
 With muffled face that hides a covert sneer,
A shadow steals across my lonely floor;
 O, thou unbidden guest! what dost thou here?

Comest thou to tell me that the words I heard,
 An hour ago, in tones of pleasant mirth,
Were but the dead leaves by the breezes stirred,
 Or like the embers scattered o'er my hearth?

Comest thou to tell me that the earnest tones
 Which poured sweet thoughts on my attentive ear
While all God's hosts were bending from their thrones,
 And God's recording angel hovered near,

Were but the idle utterings of an hour,
 Vain promises that were not made to keep,
The evil workings of some wicked power,
 Busy while better spirits were asleep?

Comest thou to tell me of the soul's eclipse,
 Where truth and honor seemed the life within,
Sparkling in gem-like glory from the lips?—
 That they were only fraud, deceit, and sin?

Is then the casket, to such witcheries wed,
 That once all praise and admiration won,
But the sarcophagus that contains the dead,
 The whited walls that hold a skeleton?

Is this thy message, thou unbidden guest?
 O, dire Suspicion! all thou knowest reveal!
Not only on my hearth thy foot is pressed,
 But on my heart its crushing weight I feel.