It had been long dark, though still an hour before supper-time. The boy stood at the window behind the curtain. The street under the black sky was bluish white with snow. Across the street, where the lot sloped to the pavement, boys and girls were going down on sleds. The boys were after him because he was a Jew. At last his father and mother slept. He got up and dressed. In the hall he took out his sled and went out on tiptoe. No one was in the street. The slide was worn smooth and slippery--just right. He laid himself down on his sled and shot away. He went down only twice. He stood knee-deep in snow: no one was in the street, the windows were darkened; those near the street-lamps were ashine, but the rooms inside were dark; on the street were long shadows of clods of snow. He took his sled and went back into the house.
This poem is in the public domain.