AN Autumn NIGHT.

Some things are good on Autumn nights,

When with the storm the forest fights,

And in the room the heaped hearth lights

Old-fashioned press and rafter:

Plump chestnuts hissing in the heat,

A mug of cider, sharp and sweet,

And at your side a face petite,

With lips of laughter.

Upon the roof the rolling rain,

And tapping at the window-pane,

The wind that seems a witch's cane

That summons spells together:

A hand within your own awhile;

A mouth reflecting back your smile;

And eyes, two stars, whose beams exile

All thoughts of weather.

And, while the wind lulls, still to sit

And watch her fire-lit needles flit

A-knitting, and to feel her knit

Your very heartstrings in it:

Then, when the old clock ticks‘ tis late,

To rise, and at the door to wait,

Two words, or at the garden gate,

A kissing minute.