Among the Millet

by Archibald Lampman


 

MIDNIGHT


 

From where I sit, I see the stars,
    And down the chilly floor
The moon between the frozen bars
    Is glimmering dim and hoar.

Without in many a peakèd mound                                            5
    The glinting snowdrifts lie;
There is no voice or living sound;
    The embers slowly die.

Yet some wild thing is in mine ear;
    I hold my breath and hark;                                                   10
Out of the depth I seem to hear
    A crying in the dark:

No sound of man or wife or child,
    No sound of beasts that groans,
Or of the wind that whistles wild,                                            15
Or of the trees that moans:

I know not what it is I hear;
    I bend my head and hark:
I cannot drive it from mine ear,
    That crying in the dark.                                                        20