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...I'VE NOTHING TO OFFER by DAVID IGNATOW POETRY by GEORGIA DOUGLAS JOHNSON DOMEDAY BOOK: MIRIAM FAY'S LETTER by EDGAR LEE MASTERS RECESSIONAL by EDGAR LEE MASTERS DILIGENCE IS TO MAGIC AS PROGRESS IS TO FLIGHT by MARIANNE MOORE TWO SONNETS: 2 by EDWIN ARLINGTON ROBINSON PLAINT OF THE DISGUSTED BRITON IN THE STATES by GEORGE SANTAYANA |