Poems (Sharpless)/The Inn

by Frances M. Sharpless

THE INN

Landlord, make what cheer you may,
I must be your guest to-day;
From a distant clime I come,
And I hasten to my home.

Ah! what journey's like to this
Where so few our presence miss!
Where no might of sage or king
One hour's tarriance may wring?

This cosy room that now I own
Shall cheer another when I've gone;
The fire as brightly leap and shine,
Delighting other eyes than mine.

Take this largess; give it free;
I am fain that there may be
Somewhere a tear or sigh the less
For my share of happiness.

Fret not, landlord, that thy guest
Tastes not of the very best;
In a journey such as mine,
What boots it, how I sleep or dine?

Whether care, with frowning face,
Take beside my chair her place,
Or if gentle smiling ease
Bring a thousand charms to please;

So my daily stint be done
Ere the setting of the sun,
And my gracious Master call
As the darkening shadows fall.

And if reaching out my hand
Aid a weaker friend to stand,
Or a cheerful word I sing
Joy to any heart may bring,

I would do what such I may,
I shall not return this way,
And I would your hostelry
Should be, at least, no worse for me.