December Evening
The black, iced sail of night thrums, thrums...
But the wind is weakening,
Now it falls away,
Drifting slowly down upon the Southern waste:
In the dark glass of my window
I see my hearth fire leaping among snowy zig-zags
Of winter boughs.
Oh, memories of youth,
Thus you flame among the snows of age
Without melting them!
But the wind is weakening,
Now it falls away,
Drifting slowly down upon the Southern waste:
In the dark glass of my window
I see my hearth fire leaping among snowy zig-zags
Of winter boughs.
Oh, memories of youth,
Thus you flame among the snows of age
Without melting them!
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