In a Beloved Home
(To W. H. G.)
Without, the heavy vapors in an endless train
Along the river's gorge drag wearily.
Autumn has fled, and winter's mastery
Takes votive tribute from his white domain;
The Northern winds unleashed bring in the rain
Which, blending at the night's austerity,
Turns into hail and white-flaked fantasy
That weirdly haunt the streaming window-pane.
Within, a peace that only heaven sends
To men who, pilgrims though they be, yet know
Life's simple gifts—a home, the heart of friends,
The company of the past; a fragrant briar;
All these were ours, for in the hearth's rich glow
Even Hamlet came and brooded on the fire.