At twelve o'clock tonight, When every house is dark, Who ride the roads alone? The winds of winter. Hark! The moon is clear above, The earth is hard below; And with a little dust They drive a little snow. They make the maples roar, The withered flowers hiss, Along the way they go On such a night as this. The winds usurp the earth, And even safely housed, Folk must cling fast to sleep Not to be oft aroused. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...A PRAYER by EDNA MAY APPLEGATE NAN'S SONG, FR. MIDSUMMER EVE by GORDON BOTTOMLEY AUTUMN IMPRESSION by RICHARD EUGENE BURTON THE POET TO THE CLOUD by RICHARD EUGENE BURTON CHILDE HAROLD'S PILGRIMAGE: CANTO 2 by GEORGE GORDON BYRON SONGS OF THE SEA CHILDREN: 52 by BLISS CARMAN |