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Poem by Robert Louis Stevenson


Henry James


Who comes to-night? We open the doors in vain.
Who comes? My bursting walls, can you contain
The presences that now together throng
Your narrow entry, as with flowers and song,
As with the air of life, the breath of talk?
Lo, how these fair immaculate women walk
Behind their jocund maker; and we see
Slighted De Mauves, and that far different she,
Gressie, the trivial sphynx; and to our feast
Daisy and Barb and Chancellor (she not least!)
With all their silken, all their airy kin,
Do like unbidden angels enter in.
But he, attended by these shining names,
Comes (best of all) himself—our welcome James. 



Robert Louis Stevenson


Robert Louis Stevenson's other poems:
  1. I Know Not How, But As I Count
  2. Ad Martialem
  3. Songs of Travel and Other Verses. 34. To My Old Familiars
  4. A Valentine's Song
  5. Songs of Travel and Other Verses. 14. Bright is the ring of words


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