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Boy at the Window

Seeing the snowman standing all alone 
In dusk and cold is more than he can bear. 
The small boy weeps to hear the wind prepare 
A night of gnashings and enormous moan. 
His tearful sight can hardly reach to where 
The pale-faced figure with bitumen eyes 
Returns him such a god-forsaken stare 
As outcast Adam gave to Paradise. 

The man of snow is, nonetheless, content, 
Having no wish to go inside and die. 
Still, he is moved to see the youngster cry. 
Though frozen water is his element, 
He melts enough to drop from one soft eye 
A trickle of the purest rain, a tear 
For the child at the bright pane surrounded by 
Such warmth, such light, such love, and so much fear. 

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