I came to the crowded Inn of Earth,
And called for a cup of wine,
But the Host went by with averted eye
From a thirst as keen as mine.
Then I sat down with weariness
And asked a bit of bread,
But the Host went by with averted eye
And never a word he said.
While always from the outer night
The waiting souls came in
With stifled cries of sharp surprise
At all the light and din.
"Then give me a bed to sleep," I said,
"For midnight comes apace"—
But the Host went by with averted eye
And I never saw his face.
"Since there is neither food nor rest,
I go where I fared before"—
But the Host went by with averted eye
And barred the outer door.
I am busy working to bring Sara Teasdale's "The Inn of Earth" to life through some unique musical arrangements and will have a full analysis of the poem here for you later.
In the meantime, I invite you to explore the poem's themes, structure, and meaning. You can also check out the home page for other musical arrangements or learn more about Sara Teasdale's life and contributions to literature.
Check back soon to experience how "The Inn of Earth" transforms when verse meets melody—a unique journey that makes poetry accessible, engaging, and profoundly moving in new ways.
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