At Dinner She Is Hostess
AT dinner she is hostess, I am host.
Went the feast ever cheerfuller? She keeps
The topic over intellectual deeps
In buoyancy afloat. They see no ghost.
With sparkling surface-eyes we ply the ball.
It is in truth a most contagious game:
Hiding the skeleton shall be its name.
Such play as this the devils might appall!
But here’s the greater wonder; in that we,
Enamoured of our acting and our wits,
Admire each other like true hypocrites.
Warm lighted glances, Love’s Ephemeræ,
Shoot gaily o’er the dishes and the wine.
We waken envy of our happy lot.
Fast, sweet, and golden, shows our marriage-knot.
Dear guests, you now have seen Love’s corpse-light shine!
George Meredith.