To a Great Lady in My Small House

You were too kind to come at all. 
The door closed on you, and my hall
Shivered in sudden naked shame. 
I whispered it was not to blame
And followed you within, to where
You were awaited by my chair. 
It was so small, and you sat down
With a so gracious smile—a frown
Would have gone better with that wall;
You were too kind to smile at all. 
You stretched a hand toward the grate;
Its welcome was inadequate.
You looked about you and pretended
The carpet and the picture blended. 
I looked—and all my furnishings
Had turned their heads: the sorry things!
You said you felt at home—a lie
My misery was finished by.
Even your guilelessness was gall. 
You were too kind to come at all.