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.