There Stands A Hostel By A Travelled Way; Life Is The Road And Death The Worthy Host; Each Guest He Greets, Nor Ever Lacks To Say, "How Have Ye Fared?" They Answer Him, The Most, "This Lodging Place Is Other Than We Sought; We Had Intended Farther, But The Gloom Came On Apace, And Found Us Ere We Thought: Yet Will We Lodge. Thou Hast Abundant Room." Within Sit Haggard Men That Speak No Word, No Fire Gleams Their Cheerful Welcome Shed; No Voice Of Fellowship Or Strife Is Heard But Silence Of A Multitude Of Dead. "Naught Can I Offer Ye," Quoth Death, "But Rest!" And To His Chamber Leads Each Tired Guest.