Hospitality

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One night did Sorrow knock upon my door
And say, “I am a weary traveller,
Weary and poor.
Do you have anywhere where I might stay?”
Whereon I kissed his feet and said,
“My servants shall your voice obey
As if ’twere mine; here is a ring,
Let it be signified henceforth:
A man may show his hospitality
To the unlikeliest of friends.
Wear my best robe; and this circlet of bronze
Be on your head like the sun in heaven.
And I shall feed you from my table till
You go into the grave. For I have heard
The dead shall rise, and in that day you will
Go by another name; for Sorrow fades,
And what is left of it is Joy.”