DESERTED by ANONYMOUS

COLD! so cold! and the night looks down
On a shivering form in a tattered gown,
On a lone, lone heart, and a pair of eyes
Abrim with life's keen miseries.
Kiss on kiss
By the flakes are told,
Kiss on kiss --
But oh! so cold.
Even the touch that ought to bless
Mocketh the wanderer's wretchedness.

How can the loved in the land of light
Peer through the dismal deeps of night,
With never a star to break the gloom,
Or sweep one cloud from the path of doom?
Flake on flake
O'er vale and hill,
Flake on flake
With touch so chill, --
With touch that sinks like the shaft of hate
Deep in the heart so desolate.

"Cold! so cold!" and the ruddy glare
Of lights that glint in the frosty air
Reddens each flake that falls upon
A hapless, homeless, friendless one;
Drop by drop
Of the blood-red snow,
Drop by drop
In the cup of woe --
A chalice filled for Want's pale bride,
A pauper's feast for a Christmas-tide.

Joy sails out on the winter's wings,
And tuned for self is the lay she sings;
Its echoes drift with the icy air,
And mock the sufferer's piteous prayer;
Wave on wave
With the night wind strong,
Wave on wave
Of the bitter song
That floats where the sails of hope are furled,
And crowns the wounds of a heartless world.

"Cold! @3so@1 cold!" Not the cutting blast,
Nor the frosty cloak of the night-cloud cast,
But the cramped, unpitying hearts that beat
The rhyme of life in the thronging street.
Throb on throb
With the chime of pelf,
Throb on throb
To the song of self,
But not one pulse to the measure sweet,
That times the love at the mercy-seat.

The night wears on, and the moon sails out,
And the clouds sweep back to the realms of doubt,
And the stars look down for the shivering form
That braved the thrusts of the cruel storm.
Fold on fold
Is the mantle white,
Fold on fold
'Neath the eyes of night;
The drifts are still on the winter's breath,
And the spotless robe is the wing of death.

Classic and Contemporary Poetry

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