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.