Thomas Bailey Aldrich

These Winter nights against my window-pane
Nature with busy pencil draws designs
Of ferns and blossoms and read more

These Winter nights against my window-pane
Nature with busy pencil draws designs
Of ferns and blossoms and fine spray of pines,
Oak-leaf and acorn and fantastic vines,
Which she will make when summer comes again--
Quaint arabesques in argent, flat and cold,
Like curious Chinese etchings.

Upon the cunning loom of thought
We weave our fancies, so and so.

Upon the cunning loom of thought
We weave our fancies, so and so.

Till then, good-night!
You wish the time were now? And I.
You do not blush to wish read more

Till then, good-night!
You wish the time were now? And I.
You do not blush to wish it so?
You would have blush'd yourself to death
To own so much a year ago.
What! both these snowy hands? ah, then
I'll have to say, Good-night again.

Dear Lord, though I be changed to senseless clay,
And serve the Potter as he turn his wheel,
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Dear Lord, though I be changed to senseless clay,
And serve the Potter as he turn his wheel,
I thank Thee for the gracious gift of tears!

We weep when we are born,
Not when we die!

We weep when we are born,
Not when we die!