Classic Poem

O porter, ope the door for me!
I'm shivering in the cold and rain;
Take pity on the stranger's pain!
I and this poor old man have come
Tired wanderers from a foreign shore,
And here we stray without a home;
His weariness o'erwhelms me more
Than my own woe. Oh, ope your door
To shelter us from cold and rain!—
Take pity on the stranger's pain!

The night is dark, and dull and cold;
No inn is open on the road;
The dreary midnight bell hath tolled,
And not a straggler walks abroad;
We nought but solitude behold,
Pelted by driving hail and rain,—
Take pity on the stranger's pain!

Be kind, be generous, friend! thy door
Throw open for the love of heaven;
We are but two—but two—no more,—
I and my poor old husband, driven
For refuge here; and we implore
A shelter. Shall we ask in vain?—
Take pity on the stranger's pain!

Here give us welcome; thou wilt be
Rewarded by God's grace, which can
Shower unexpected joys; though he
May be an old, defenceless man,
Yet God has recompense for thee;
Thou may'st a noble guerdon gain;—
Take pity on the stranger's pain.

Let us not tarry longer,—ope!
We're chilled with cold,—so ope, I pray!
Ope to the wanderers now, and hope
They well thy kindness may repay;
Time and eternity give scope
For recompense. The wind and rain,
Beat on,—relieve the stranger's pain!