THE FALLOW DEER AT THE LONELY HOUSE

One without looks in tonight

Through the curtain-chink

From the sheet of glistening white;

One without looks in tonight

As we sit and think 

By the fender-brink.

We do not discern those eyes

Watching in the snow;

Lit by lamps of rosy dyes

We do not discern those eyes

Wandering, aglow

Four-footed, tiptoe. 

-o0o-