Then she threw the door wide open,
Though the storm rush'd in upon her,
With its blinding sleet and fury.
What beheld she, near the threshold,
Prostrate there beside the threshold,
But a woman, to whose bosom
Clung a young and sobbing infant?
—Oh the searching look that kindled
'Neath those drooping, straining eye-lids,
Searching mid the blast and darkness,