Brimfull of the friendliness

Keen, fitful gusts are whisp’ring here and there    Among the bushes half leafless, and dry ;    The stars look very cold about the sky, And I have many miles on foot to fare. Yet feel I little of the cold bleak air,    Or of the dead leaves rustling drearily,    Or of those silver lamps thatContinue reading “Brimfull of the friendliness”