Thomas Bailey Aldrich

Only the sea intoning,
Only the wainscot-mouse,
Only the wild wind moaning
Over the read more

Only the sea intoning,
Only the wainscot-mouse,
Only the wild wind moaning
Over the lonely house.

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.

But when the sun in all his state,
Illumed the eastern skies,
She passed through glory's morning read more

But when the sun in all his state,
Illumed the eastern skies,
She passed through glory's morning gate,
And walked in Paradise.

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.

Or light or dark, or short or tall,
She sets a springe to snare them all:
All's read more

Or light or dark, or short or tall,
She sets a springe to snare them all:
All's one to her--above her fan
She'd make sweet eyes at Caliban.