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...RUINES OF ROME by JOACHIM DU BELLAY INSTANS TYRANNUS by ROBERT BROWNING A THUNDERSTORM IN TOWN by THOMAS HARDY COLUMBUS AND THE MAYFLOWER by RICHARD MONCKTON MILNES WHITTIER by MARGARET ELIZABETH MUNSON SANGSTER INFLUENCE by BELLE BEARDEN BARRY MAY EVENING by WILLIAM CULLEN BRYANT THE CONJUNCTION OF JUPITER AND VENUS by WILLIAM CULLEN BRYANT |