Dark frost was in the air without, The dusk was still with cold and gloom, When less than even a shadow came And stood within the room. But of the three around the fire, None turned a questioning head to look, Still read a clear voice, on and on, Still stooped they o'er their book. The children watched their mother's eyes Moving on softly line to line; It seemed to listen too -- that shade, Yet made no outward sign. The fire-flames crooned a tiny song, No cold wind stirred the wintry tree; The children both in Faerie dreamed Beside their mother's knee. And nearer yet that spirit drew Above that heedless one, intent Only on what the simple words Of her small story meant. No voiceless sorrow grieved her mind, No memory her bosom stirred, Nor dreamed she, as she read to two, 'Twas surely three who heard. Yet when, the story done, she smiled From face to face, serene and clear, A love, half dread, sprang up, as she Leaned close and drew them near. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...COBWEBS by CHRISTINA GEORGINA ROSSETTI LE MARAIS DU CYNGE by JOHN GREENLEAF WHITTIER THE ANGEL OF PATIENCE by JOHN GREENLEAF WHITTIER TO CYNTHIA GONE INTO THE COUNTRY by PHILIP AYRES PSALM 13 by OLD TESTAMENT BIBLE |