A Winter Night

My window-pane is starred with frost,
The world is bitter cold to-night,
The moon is cruel, and the wind
Is like a two-edged sword to smite.

God pity all the homeless ones,
The beggars pacing to and fro.
God pity all the poor to-night
Who walk the lamp-lit streets of snow.

My room is like a bit of June,
Warm and close-curtained fold on fold,
But somewhere, like a homeless child,
My heart is crying in the cold.

by Sara Teasdale

Other poems of TEASDALE (315)

Comments (28)

MY WINDOW PANE IS STARRED WITH FROST
So boring I thought I was going to die
its wonderful writings- God pity all the homeless ones, The beggars pacing to and fro. God pity all the poor to-night Who walk the lamp-lit streets of snow ///
'But somewhere, like a homeless child, My heart is crying in the cold. - The poetess' compassion touched me!
Mesmerizing and captivating, as I sit here typing this my own window frame is stirred with frost, and the sky is pitched black, pregnant with mystery. There is no other perfect time then winter, yet its also distressing that so many people still live homeless, the second stanza is sadly still important today as it was when she wrote it.
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