That held a sputtering wood fire and a man;
Beyond was tumult and a whirling maze.
The trees were but a roaring in a haze;
The sheer bluff-wall that took the blizzard’s charge
Was thunder flung along the hidden marge
Of chaos, stridden by the ghost of light.
White blindness grew black blindness—and ‘twas night
Wherethrough nor moon nor any star might grope.
Two days since, Hugh had killed an antelope
And what remained sufficed the time of storm.