Robert Louis Stevenson - Henry James

Who comes to-night? We open the doors in vain. <br />Who comes? My bursting walls, can you contain <br />The presences that now together throng <br />Your narrow entry, as with flowers and song, <br />As with the air of life, the breath of talk? <br />Lo, how these fair immaculate women walk <br />Behind their jocund maker; and we see <br />Slighted De Mauves, and that far different she, <br />Gressie, the trivial sphynx; and to our feast <br />Daisy and Barb and Chancellor (she not least!) <br />With all their silken, all their airy kin, <br />Do like unbidden angels enter in. <br />But he, attended by these shining names, <br />Comes (best of all) himself—our welcome James.<br /><br />Robert Louis Stevenson<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/henry-james/