The lowering clouds a winter’s day make dreary
And the ice-slick streets the travelers foot lead astray
As the wandering spirit wends a long way weary
Through the endless grey and dismal day –
Until the sparking light of homestead warm
That welcome beacon of repose softly shining
And glittering with promise of berth from yonder storm
On the traveler for couch and counterpane pining.
Then does the weary head lay soft to rest
While silent snowflakes fall in sheets of white
And thrumming cat against one’s back is pressed
The feeble daylight trickles out to night.
The question rises up without a doubt:
Arise from couch to cook or then dine out?