The host, he says that all is well
And the fire-wood glow is bright;
The food has a warm and tempting smell,-
But on the window licks the night.
Pile on the logs... Give me your hands,
Friends! No,- it is not fright...
But hold me... somewhere I heard demands...
And on the window licks the night.
Fear
Harold Hart Crane
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Poem topics: fire, food, bright, smell, warm, hold, night, window, Print This Poem , Rhyme Scheme
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