![]() Of ancient mountain, and beneath the clouds, In the great city, pent ‘mid cloisters dim,Īnd saw nought lovely but the sky and stars.īut thou, my babe! shalt wander like a breezeīy lakes and sandy shores, beneath the crags With tender gladness, thus to look at thee,Īnd think that thou shalt learn far other lore,Īnd in far other scenes! For I was reared My babe so beautiful! it thrills my heart Whose gentle breathings, heard in this deep calm, He hoped to see a townsman, an aunt, a beloved sister, or a playmate of childhood days when they have dressed alike.ĭear Babe, that sleepest cradled by my side, And he would expect to see the expected visitor’s face. If the door opened a little, he would hastily cast a glance at it. So the words in the book would just swim before his eyes. But his thoughts were concerned with the expectation of a visitor. The next morning, his mind would become occupied with the thoughts of the visit of his some friends or relatives.īeing afraid of the stern schoolmaster, he would also pretend to be reading, and fixed his eyes on his book. So, he kept looking over that film and imagined sweet things till he fell asleep, and sleep prolonged his sweet dreams. He says their tinkling sounds fill his ears like the clear sounds of the prophecy of future events. They rang so sweet that even their memory at school moved his being and filled him with passionate joy. Those bells rang from morning to evening on a hot fair-day. He says, and often, having seen that film, he was filled with the sweet vision of his birth-place, and of the old church-tower whose bells produced the only music for the poor men of the place. He believed that the film was a sign of a visitor to see him the next morning. He remembers that at Christ Hospital School, he would look on the fireplace in expectation of that thin film of light. In the second stanza of ‘ Frost At Midnight’, the mind of the poet travels back to past, being stirred by the associations of the thin film of light. My play-mate when we both were clothed alike! Townsman, or aunt, or sister more beloved, Save if the door half opened, and I snatchedĪ hasty glance, and still my heart leaped up,įor still I hoped to see the stranger’s face, Lulled me to sleep, and sleep prolonged my dreams!Īwed by the stern preceptor’s face, mine eyeįixed with mock study on my swimming book: So gazed I, till the soothing things, I dreamt, Most like articulate sounds of things to come! With a wild pleasure, falling on mine ear So sweetly, that they stirred and haunted me Whose bells, the poor man’s only music, rangįrom morn to evening, all the hot Fair-day, Of my sweet birth-place, and the old church-tower, To watch that fluttering stranger ! and as oft How oft, at school, with most believing mind, For it seeks its echo or reflection everywhere and plays with a thought as if it were a plaything. His unoccupied spirit interprets its little capricious movements in the light of its own moods. The poet says in this silence of Nature, its motion reflects its silent sympathy with him who is still awake and look upon it as an agreeable form. Even the thin blue flame seems to be asleep and still on his slowly dying fire. The sea, the hill, the wood, and the village of countless activities of human life all are as silent as dreams. The poet further says that the night atmosphere is so calm that its strange, extreme, silence disturbs his thoughtful mind, through its strangeness. He says only his cradled little son is sleeping beside him peacefully. They have left him alone to enjoy the peace of this solitude that suits his philosophical tendencies. He says all the inmates of his cottage are at rest and asleep. The night is quiet, yet the owlet’s loud hoot can be heard. The poet, looking at the frost in the night atmosphere outside his cottage, says to himself: The frost is doing its secret service, in the scheme of Nature. It is about midnight and Nature around his cottage is calm and quiet to the last degree. One night when the poet’s mind was obsessed with philosophical, subtle, thoughts, and his little son was lying asleep in his cradle beside his bed, the poet looks out of the cottage window and finds the atmosphere covered with frost. Whose puny flaps and freaks the idling Spirit Gives it dim sympathies with me who live, Methinks, its motion in this hush of nature ![]() Still flutters there, the sole unquiet thing. Only that film, which fluttered on the grate, Lies on my low-burnt fire, and quivers not With all the numberless goings-on of life, This populous village! Sea, and hill, and wood, ![]() ‘Tis calm indeed! so calm, that it disturbsĪnd extreme silentness. ![]() Have left me to that solitude, which suits Frost at Midnight Analysis Stanzas One and TwoĬame loud-and hark, again! loud as before. ![]()
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