Archibald Lampman

Midnight

From where I sit, I see the stars,
    And down the chilly floor
  The moon between the frozen bars
    Is glimmering dim and hoar.
  Without in many a peakèd mound
    The glinting snowdrifts lie;
  There is no voice or living sound;
    The embers slowly die.
  Yet some wild thing is in mine ear;
   I hold my breath and hark;
 Out of the depth I seem to hear
   A crying in the dark;
 
 No sound of man or wife or child,
   No sound of beast that groans,
 Or of the wind that whistles wild,
   Or of the tree that moans:
 I know not what it is I hear;
   I bend my head and hark:
 I cannot drive it from mine ear,
   That crying in the dark.
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