Explore "The Host" by Marie Van Vorst on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
I had my enemy within my house. / My enemy -- my arch, arch enemy. / I bound my handkerchief about his brows, / For he was wan and cried -- "A Boon! " to me.
Standing upon the threshold -- wan, distraught, / His eyes filmed with the mist of sickness dim; / "He does not know it is my house! " (I thought) / "_Salve! _" I cried, and ran to welcome him.