My window-pane is starred with frost, The world is bitter cold to-night, The moon is cruel and the wind Is like a two-edged sword to smite. God pity all the homeless ones, The beggars pacing to and fro. God pity all the poor to-night Who walk the lamp-lit streets of snow. My room is like a bit of June, Warm and close-curtained fold on fold, But somewhere, like a homeless child, My heart is crying in the cold. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...A VALEDICTION: FORBIDDING MOURNING by JOHN DONNE THE MOWER AGAINST GARDENS by ANDREW MARVELL TO MADAME DE SEVIGNE by MATHIEU DE MONTREUIL SWEET MEETING OF DESIRES by COVENTRY KERSEY DIGHTON PATMORE IN MEMORIAM A.H.H.: 23 by ALFRED TENNYSON TO SWEET MEAT, SOUR SAUCE; AN IMITATION OF THEOCRITUS OR ANACREON by PHILIP AYRES DEDICATIONS AND INSCRIPTIONS: 8. BEAM-VERSES AT WELL KNOWE by GORDON BOTTOMLEY |