Frost at Midnight

Samuel Taylor Coleridge (1772-1834) The Frost performs its secret ministry, Unhelped by any wind. The owlet’s cry Came loud – and hark, again! loud as before. The inmates of my cottage, all at rest, Have left me to that solitude, which suits Abstruser musings: save that at my side My cradled infant slumbers peacefully. ‘TisContinue reading “Frost at Midnight”