The Night was wide, and furnished scant
With but a single Star --
That often as a Cloud it met --
Blew out itself -- for fear --
The Wind pursued the little Bush --
And drove away the Leaves
November left -- then clambered up
And fretted in the Eaves --
No Squirrel went abroad --
A Dog's belated feet
Like intermittent Plush, he heard
Adown the empty Street --
To feel if Blinds be fast --
And closer to the fire --
Her little Rocking Chair to draw --
And shiver for the Poor --
The Housewife's gentle Task --
How pleasanter -- said she
Unto the Sofa opposite --
The Sleet -- than May, no Thee --
