Historical poem (1888)
By William Wilfred Campbell, 1888
Outside, over bleak land and forest,
Loud drive the gust demons of night,
And under, stretched cheerless and eyrie,
The world lies all shrouded in white.
Dark blows the smoke of our chimney
Down under the half hidden moon,
Where close with a ghastlier shadow,
The elm boughs creak a weird tune.
Barred close is each window and shutter,
Warm, warm is the blaze of our fire,
What care we for bleak, cheerless winter?
And all his wild hordes in their ire?
No matter how cold and how bitter
The gust with its wind and its snow,
If Love but sit here by our firelight
And add his glad warmth to its glow.
No matter how wild be the storming
Of night on his bleak winter shore,
If the angel of peace and contentment
Brood over wall, rafter and door.
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