Poem by Harold Hart Crane

Fear

The host, he says that all is well
And the fire-wood glow is bright;
The food has a warm and tempting smell,-
But on the window licks the night.

Pile on the logs... Give me your hands,
Friends! No,- it is not fright...
But hold me... somewhere I heard demands...
And on the window licks the night.

1. Interior
2. North Labrador
3. To Emily Dickinson
4. The Air Plant
5. The Hurricane

Edith Nesbit Fear ("IF you were here")

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