IT is a winter's night and cold, The wind is blowing half a gale; I, with a red-hot poker, stir To take the chill off my old ale. I drink my ale, I smoke my pipe, While fire-flames leap to fight the cold; And yet, before my bedtime comes, I must look out on the wide world. And what strange beauty I behold: The wild fast-driven clouds this night Hurled at the moon, whose smiling face Still shines with undiminished light. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...BUCOLIC COMEDY: SPINNING SONG by EDITH SITWELL A SONG TO A FAIR YOUNG LADY GOING OUT OF TOWN IN THE SPRING by JOHN DRYDEN EPITAPH ON ELIZABETH, L.H. by BEN JONSON CALVARY by EDWIN ARLINGTON ROBINSON HAMPTON BEACH by JOHN GREENLEAF WHITTIER |