Frost At Midnight By Samuel Taylor Coleridge

Frost At Midnight By Samuel Taylor Coleridge The frost performs its secret ministry,Unhelped by any wind. The owlet’s cryCame loud—and hark, again! loud as before.The inmates of my cottage, all at rest,Have left me to that solitude, which suitsAbstruser musings: save that at my sideMy cradled infant slumbers peacefully.‘Tis calm indeed! so calm, that it […]