Hart Crane

Fear

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.

Hart Crane

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About lkthayer

actor/writer/designer/poet
This entry was posted in Featured Poet, Poetry and tagged , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

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