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All within is warm,
Here without it's very cold,
Now the year is grown so old
And the dead leaves swarm.
In your heart is light,
Here without it's very dark,
When shall I hear the lark?
When see aright?
Oh, for a moment's space!
Draw the clinging curtains wide
Whilst I wait and yearn outside
Let the light fall on my face.
This poem is in the public domain.
Let me wait, my dear,
One more day,
Let me linger near,
Let me stay.
Do not bar the gate of draw the blind
Or lock the door that yields,
Dear, be kind!
I
I should like to imagine
A moonlight in which there would be no machine-guns!
The old houses of Flanders,
They watch by the high cathedrals;
They overtop the high town-halls;
They have eyes, mournful, tolerant and sardonic, for the ways of men
In the high, white, tiled gables.
The rain and the night have settled down on Flanders;
It is all wet darkness; you can see nothing.