Fear

 The host, he says that all is well
And the fire-wood glow is bright;
The food has a warm and tempting smell,—
But on the window licks the night.


Pile on the logs.
.
.
 Give me your hands,
Friends! No,— it is not fright.
.
.

But hold me.
.
.
 somewhere I heard demands.
.
.

And on the window licks the night.

Biography | Poems | Best Poems | Short Poems | Quotes | Email Poem |

Poems are below...