Explore "The Winter Nights at Home" by Joseph C. Lincoln on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
A stretch of hill and valley, swathed thick in robes of white, / The buildings blots of blackness, the windows gems of light, / A moon, now clear, now hidden, as in its headlong race / The north wind drags the cloud-wrack in tatters o'er its face; / Mailed twigs that click and clatter upon the tossing tree, / And, like a giant's chanting, the deep voice of the sea, / As 'mid the stranded ice-cakes the bursting breakers foam, -- / The old familiar picture -- a winter night at home.
The old familiar picture -- the firelight rich and red, / The lamplight soft and mellow, the shadowed beams o'erhead; / And father with his paper, and mother, calm and sweet, / Mending the red yarn stockings stubbed through by careless feet. / The little attic bedroom, the window 'neath the eaves, / Decked by the Frost King's brushes with silvered sprays and leaves; / The rattling sash which gossips with idle gusts that roam / About the ice-fringed gables -- the winter nights at home.