When the wind works against us in the dark, And pelts with snow The lower chamber window on the east, And whispers with a sort of stifled bark, The beast,

1 Come out! Come out!'-

It costs no inward struggle not to go,

Ah, no!

I count our strength, Two and a child,

Those of us not asleep subdued to mark

How the cold creeps as the fire dies at length,-

How drifts are piled,

Dooryard and road ungraded,

Till even the comforting barn grows far away

And my heart owns a doubt

Whether 'tis in us to arise with day

And save ourselves unaided.