Lo, now, my guest

Lo, now, my guest

LO, now, my guest, if aught amiss were said,
Forgive it and dismiss it from your head.
For me, for you, for all, to close the date,
Pass now the ev'ning sponge across the slate;
And to that spirit of forgiveness keep
Which is the parent and the child of sleep.

-THE END-
Robert Louis Stevenson's poem: Lo, now, my guest

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