The Strange Guest

HE brought a branch of olive, —
This stranger guest of mine;
Could I deny him entrance,
Who bore the peaceful sign ?
Ah no ! I bade him welcome,
I set him meat and wine ;
But while he drank and feasted,
How laughed his eyes divine !

I took the branch of olive
(The soothest plant that grows),
And from the carven ceiling
I hung it with the rose.
“ But why to me this token,
Who never lacked repose ?
Why this to me,” I questioned,
“ Who know nor feud nor foes ? ”

He smiled beneath the olive, —
This strangest stranger guest.
A branch from off the thorn-tree
Had told his errand best;
For since my house he entered
There’s ne’er a heart at rest.
To mode me with the olive !
But Love doth love his jest.