Beside the blaze, as of forty fires, Giant Grim doth sit, Roasting a thick-woolled mountain sheep Upon an iron spit. Above him wheels the winter sky, Beneath him, fathoms deep, Lies hidden in the valley mists A village fast asleep -- Save for one restive hungry dog That, snuffing towards the height, Smells Grim's broiled supper-meat, and spies His watch-fire twinkling bright. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE KINGFISHER by WILLIAM HENRY DAVIES SONNET: ADDRESSED TO HAYDON (2) by JOHN KEATS THE NIGHT COURT by RUTH COMFORT MITCHELL A WORD TO THE WEST END by THOMAS ASHE THE HOME-COMING by KATHARINE LEE BATES |