The Reason

A poem by Fay Inchfawn

"Why shouldest Thou be as a wayfaring man, that turneth aside to tarry for a night?" -- Jer. xiv. 8.

Nay, do not get the venison pasty out;
I shall not greatly put myself about
Hungry, he may be; yes, and we shall spare
Some bread and cheese, 'tis truly whole- some fare.
We have to-morrow's dinner still to find;
It's well for you I have a frugal mind.

Not the best bed! No, no. Whatever next?
Why with such questionings should I be vext?
The man is naught to us; why should we care?
The little attic room will do; 'tis bare,
But he'll be gone before to-morrow's light;
He has but come to tarry for a night.

I shall not speak with him. Oh, no, not I,
Lest I should pity overmuch, or buy
Some paltry ware of his. Nay, I'll to bed,
And he can sup alone, well warmed and fed;
'Tis much to take him in a night like this.
Why should I fret me with concerns of his?

Grey morning came, and at the break of day
The Man rose up and went upon his way

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