"The House of Hospitalities" revisits a place once alive with Christmas carolling, warm fires, and gathered friends — now silent, cobwebbed, and eaten by rust and worms. Hardy sets the joy of those past celebrations against the cold stillness of the present, where moles labour where voices once rang. The poem's power lies in its final turn: at midnight, under moonlight, ghostly forms of the long-dead return and smile — offering the speaker a bittersweet communion with a vanished world.
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