Yet still he lingered by the window frame
And on its smooth glass wrote his mystic name.
And on its smooth glass wrote his mystic name.
Then through the cellar wall went creeping in,
To nip the rosy apples in their bin,
Or freeze the golden pumpkins on the floor,
With spiteful heart to spoil the winter store;
But ever and anon comes back again
To peep in at the frosty window pane,
And, if the fire upon the hearth burns low,
He creeps into the room, and chills it so
That soon the revelers draw near the fire
And stir the coals and pile the fuel higher.
And all this time, the wild wind shrieks and groans,
Or bellows down the chimney top, or moans
Among the trees, or with a sudden roar,
Comes rudely knocking at the cottage door.
Thus goes the night, until on field and town,
The feathery snow comes softly sifting down,
Spreading its mantle o'er the field and wood,
Folding the earth in winter's solitude.
To nip the rosy apples in their bin,
Or freeze the golden pumpkins on the floor,
With spiteful heart to spoil the winter store;
But ever and anon comes back again
To peep in at the frosty window pane,
And, if the fire upon the hearth burns low,
He creeps into the room, and chills it so
That soon the revelers draw near the fire
And stir the coals and pile the fuel higher.
And all this time, the wild wind shrieks and groans,
Or bellows down the chimney top, or moans
Among the trees, or with a sudden roar,
Comes rudely knocking at the cottage door.
Thus goes the night, until on field and town,
The feathery snow comes softly sifting down,
Spreading its mantle o'er the field and wood,
Folding the earth in winter's solitude.
Then morning breaks, and on the young day's cheek
There comes a flush and then a crimson streak,
And soon the great sunshining clear and bright
Mounts o'er the hills and floods the world with light.
There comes a flush and then a crimson streak,
And soon the great sunshining clear and bright
Mounts o'er the hills and floods the world with light.
54
