THE days are cold, the nights are long, <br />The north-wind sings a doleful song; <br />Then hush again upon my breast; <br />All merry things are now at rest, <br />Save thee, my pretty Love! <br /> <br />The kitten sleeps upon the hearth, <br />The crickets long have ceased their mirth; <br />There's nothing stirring in the house <br />Save one 'wee', hungry, nibbling mouse, <br />Then why so busy thou? <br /> <br />Nay! start not at that sparkling light; <br />'Tis but the moon that shines so bright <br />On the window pane bedropped with rain: <br />Then, little Darling! sleep again, <br />And wake when it is day.<br /><br />William Wordsworth<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/the-cottager-to-her-infant/
