What a night! The wind howls, hisses, and but stops
To howl more loud, while the snow volley keeps
Incessant batter at the window-pane,
Making our comforts feel as sweet again;
And in the morning, when the tempest drops,
At every cottage door mountainous heaps
Of snow lie drifted, then all entrance stops
Until the broom and the shovel gain,
The path, and leave a wall on either side
~ John Clare
No comments:
Post a Comment