Strange news! a city full? will none give way To lodge a guest that comes not every day? No inn, nor tavern void? yet I descry One empty place alone, where we may lie: In too much fullness is some want: but where? Men's empty hearts: let's ask for lodging there. But if they not admit us, then we'll say Their hearts, as well as inns, are made of clay. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...RECOMPENSE by JESSE M. BALL ALLEN THE BLUE BIRD by LAWRENCE ALMA-TADEMA A DAY REMORSEFUL by EDMUND CHARLES BLUNDEN BUILDING THE LIBRARY, TOKYO UNIVERSITY; NIGHT SCENE by EDMUND CHARLES BLUNDEN |