Page:Songs of the Road Doyle.djvu/67

Rh She laid her best before him,

Homely and simple fare,

And to his couch she bore him

The raiment he should wear.

To mine he had been welcome,

My suit of russet brown,

But she had dressed our weary guest

In a loose and easy gown.

And long in peace he lay there,

Brooding and still and weak,

Smiling from day to day there

At thoughts he would not speak.

The months flowed on, but ever

Our guest would still remain,

Nor made the least endeavour

To leave our home again.