Beside the blaze, as of forty fires, Giant Grim doth sit, Roasting a thick-woolled mountain sheep Upon an iron spit. Above him wheels the winter sky, Beneath him, fathoms deep, Lies hidden in the valley mists A village fast asleep -- Save for one restive hungry dog That, snuffing towards the height, Smells Grim's broiled supper-meat, and spies His watch-fire twinkling bright. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE BIVOUAC OF THE DEAD by THEODORE O'HARA OEDIPUS AT COLONUS: OLD AGE by SOPHOCLES LITTLE BOATIE'; A SLUMBER SONG FOR THE FISHERMAN'S CHILD by HENRY VAN DYKE FALSE FRIEND by GHALIB IBN RIBAH AL-HAJJAM ROMAIOS by WILLAM GAY BALLANTINE RIDDLE by ANNA LETITIA BARBAULD |