From The Window

Well, this is awful weather;

Storming with rain and snow!

I sit at the window,

Into the darkness below.

A little glimmering

Goes down the uncertain street—A lantern, and a

With tired and stumbling feet.

I think it's eggs and

That the old lady has

To bake a cake for her daughter,

The lazy good-for-naught.

Yawning at home on the sofa,

She lies in front of the blaze—The golden hair is

About her golden face.