Explore "Mid-Winter" by Madison Cawein on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
/ All day the clouds hung ashen with the cold; / And through the snow the muffled waters fell; / The day seemed drowned in grief too deep to tell, / Like some old hermit whose last bead is told. / At eve the wind woke, and the snow-clouds rolled / Aside to leave the fierce sky visible; / Harsh as an iron landscape of wan hell / The dark hills hung framed in with gloomy gold. / And then, towards night, the wind seemed some one at / My window wailing: now a little child / Crying outside the door; and now the long / Howl of some starved beast down the flue. I sat / And knew 'twas Winter with his madman song / Of miseries, whereon he stared and smiled.