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Poem	One silent night of late, When every creature rested, Came one unto my gate, And knocking, me molested. Who's that, said I, beats there, And troubles thus the sleepy? Cast off; said he, all fear, And let not locks thus keep ye. For I a boy am, who By moonless nights have swerved; And all with showers wet through, And e'en with cold half starved. I pitiful arose, And soon a taper lighted; And did myself disclose Unto the lad benighted. I saw he had a bow, And wings too, which did shiver; And looking down below, I spied he had a quiver. I to my chimney's shine Brought him, as Love professes, And chafed his hands with mine, And dried his dropping tresses. But when he felt him warm'd, Let's try this bow of ours And string, if they be harm'd, Said he, with these late showers. Forthwith his bow he bent, And wedded string and arrow, And struck me, that it went Quite through my heart and marrow Then laughing loud, he flew Away, and thus said flying, Adieu, mine host, adieu, I'll leave thy heart a-dying.
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