The morning brought a stranger to my door, I know not whence such feet as his may stray, From what still heights, along what star-set way, A child he seemed, yet my eyes fell before His eyes Olympian. I did implore Him enter, linger but one golden day To bless my house. He pa**ed, he might not stay, And though I call with tears, he comes no more. At noon there stole a beggar to my gate, Of subtle tongue, the porter he beguiled. His creeping, evil steps my house defiled. I flung him scornful alms, I bade him straight To leave me. Swift he clutched my fee and smiled, Yet went not forth, nor goes, despite my hate.