'Tis Christmas weather, and a country house 
Receives us: rooms are full: we can but get 
An attic-crib. Such lovers will not fret 
At that, it is half-said. The great carouse 
Knocks hard upon the midnight's hollow door, 
But when I knock at hers, I see the pit. 
Why did I come here in that dullard fit? 
I enter, and lie couched upon the floor. 
Passing, I caught the coverlet's quick beat:-- 
Come, Shame, burn to my soul! and Pride, and Pain-- 
Foul demons that have tortured me, enchain! 
Out in the freezing darkness the lambs bleat. 
The small bird stiffens in the low starlight. 
I know not how, but shuddering as I slept, 
I dreamed a banished angel to me crept: 
My feet were nourished on her breasts all night.