A guest at Eventide since gone,
His halo and head in his hands;
It was my door he did knock on.

And yet, a saint, I did chance on!
Projected like a film at Cannes,
A guest at Eventide since gone.

His severed mouth held in French gants
Spoke of travels in other lands—
It was my door he did knock on.

Yet, I offered him a bonbon
And this did not meet his demands.
A guest at Eventide since gone.

I wondered what show of old brawn
Had scorched this guest his holy brands—
It was my door he did knock on.

At my query he did but yawn
As he played with his severed strands.
A guest at Eventide since gone,
It was my door he did knock on.