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The
Frost performs its secret ministry, Unhelped by any
wind. The
owlet's cry Came loud—and hark, again! loud as before.
The inmates of my cottage, all at rest, Have left me to
that solitude, which suits Abstruser musings: save
that
at my side My cradled infant slumbers peacefully. 'Tis
calm indeed! so calm, that it disturbs And vexes
meditation with
its strange And extreme silentness.
— Samuel
Taylor Coleridge,
"Frost at Midnight"
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