In Flanders Fields and Other Poems

<p><SPAN name="link2H_4_0017" id="link2H_4_0017"></SPAN></p> <br/> <h2> Mine Host </h2> <p>There stands a hostel by a travelled way;<br/> Life is the road and Death the worthy host;<br/> Each guest he greets, nor ever lacks to say,<br/> "How have ye fared?" They answer him, the most,<br/> "This lodging place is other than we sought;<br/> We had intended farther, but the gloom<br/> Came on apace, and found us ere we thought:<br/> Yet will we lodge. Thou hast abundant room."<br/> <br/> Within sit haggard men that speak no word,<br/> No fire gleams their cheerful welcome shed;<br/> No voice of fellowship or strife is heard<br/> But silence of a multitude of dead.<br/> "Naught can I offer ye," quoth Death, "but rest!"<br/> And to his chamber leads each tired guest.<br/></p> <div style="break-after:column;"></div><br />