Sonett-Forum

Seldom the powers of heaven or hell declare
To strangers, meeting, of their rank and name.
The great archangel hosts no aureoles wear,
And Satan's minions prance ungirt of flame.
In vesture undemonstrative they come
And stand like mighty shadows at the gate,
Their eyes subdued, their eloquent voices dumb,
Their hands concealed that hold such turns of fate.
Greet thou the stranger! give him of thy best,
As fits the pilgrim of an unknown day.
Then when thy board is emptied of its guest,
And o'er the hills that vast form stalks away,
Evening, mayhap, across thy door shall fall
Ere thou know sure what garments swept thy hall.