The Green Inn

The roof is high and arched and blue, The floor is spread with pine; On my four walls the sunlight falls In golden flecks and fine; And swift and fleet on noiseless feet The Four Winds bring me wine. Here none may mock an empty purse Or ragged coat and poor, But Silence waits within the gates, And Peace beside the door; The weary guest is welcomest, The richest pays no score. Oh, you who in the House of Strife Quarrel and game and sin, Come out and see what cheer may be For starveling souls and thin Who come at last from drought and fast To sit in God’s Green Inn.