Fear in  General   

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.

By Hart Crane

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Other poems by Hart Crane:

• Carmen De Boheme
• Chaplinesque
• Exile
• Fear
• Forgetfulness
• Interior
• Legend
• The Great Western Plains
• The Visible, The Untrue
• To Brooklyn Bridge
• To Emily Dickinson
• Voyages II