Silent is the house: all are laid asleep: One alone looks out o'er the snow-wreaths deep, Watching every cloud, dreading every breeze That whirls the 'wildering drift, and bends the groaning trees. Cheerful is the hearth, soft the matted floor; Not one shivering gust creeps through pane or door; The little lamp burns straight, its rays shoot strong and far: I trim it well, to be the wanderer's guiding-star. Frown, my haughty sire! chide, my angry dame! Set your slaves to spy; threaten me with shame: But neither sire nor dame, nor prying serf shall know What angel nightly tracks that waste of frozen snow. What I love shall come like visitant of air, Safe in secret power from lurking human snare; Who loves me, no word of mine shall e'er betray, Though for faith unstained my life must forfeit pay. Burn then, little lamp; glimmer straight and clear -- Hush! a rustling wing stirs, methinks, the air: He for whom I wait thus ever comes to me; Strange Power! I trust thy might; trust thou my constancy. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...A CORN SONG by PAUL LAURENCE DUNBAR THE KLONDIKE by EDWIN ARLINGTON ROBINSON ODES: BOOK 2: ODE 2. TO SLEEP by MARK AKENSIDE FEBRUARY THAW by KENNETH SLADE ALLING THE GOLDEN YEAR! by ALFRED AUSTIN |