The Cabin

On a dark deserted street,
On a damp drab night,
With distant dog's a'howling
Stood a cabin with a light.
Looking stranded, standing silent,
Comes a horrible, hounding train,
With a ripping, stripping, thoughtlessness,
Chilling feelings to insane.
Then slams the careless, fairless wind
Making a shutter shatter and scatter:
But barely budging, there intense,
Yet unlearned to this matter.
Patient, worried, waiting, watching,
A sigh forced from my heart:
If I could come another time
There'd never be a start.
No matter what may teasingly tempt
To scratch or scorch off my mind,
The little light and the cabin that night
Has woven to a permanent wind.