Storm Fear
-Robert Frost

When the wind works against us in the dark,
 And pelts with snow
 The lowest chamber window on the east,
 And whispers with a sort of stifled bark,
 The beast,
 'Come out! Come out!'--
 It costs no inward struggle not to go,
 Ah, no!
 I count our strength,
 Two and a child,
 Those of us not asleep subdued to mark
 How the cold creeps as the fire dies at length,--
 How