Silence

My father used to say,

"Superior people never make long visits,

have to be shown Longfellow's grave

nor the glass flowers at Harvard.

Self reliant like the cat --

that takes its prey to privacy,

the mouse's limp tail hanging like a shoelace from its mouth --

they sometimes enjoy solitude,

and can be robbed of speech

by speech which has delighted them.

The deepest feeling always shows itself in silence;

not in silence, but restraint."

Nor was he insincere in saying, "`Make my house your inn'."

Inns are not residences. 

Comments:-

The speaker recalls how her father used to describe "superior people." The father begins by discussing what these people do on visits: they never stay for too long, and they don't need to be shown around, presumably because they can find the local attractions themselves.

Next, the poem moves into a graphic description of a cat running off with a mouse's tail dangling from his mouth. (Whoa, Dad.) The speaker's father then claims that, more generally, superior people also know when to keep quiet, because sometimes silence is the best response to being totally delighted or really moved.

Now, the speaker interrupts here to turn back to the father's discussion of visits. He's not exactly lying when he politely tells you to make his house your inn. You have to read more carefully into the words to see what's implied. An inn isn't your home. It's a place you stay only briefly.