THERE'S snow on the fields, And cold in the cottage, While I sit in the chimney nook Supping hot pottage. My clothes are soft and warm, Fold upon fold, But I'm so sorry for the poor Out in the cold. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE IMPOSSIBLE INDISPENSIBILITY OF THE ARS POETICA by HAYDEN CARRUTH FOR WALT WHITMAN by DAVID IGNATOW SPOON RIVER ANTHOLOGY: JAMES GARBER by EDGAR LEE MASTERS THE DUNES OF INDIANA by EDGAR LEE MASTERS |