Storm fear

Storm fear

Robert Frost


When the wind works against us in the dark,
And pelts the snow
The lower chamber window on the east,
And whispers with a sort of stifled bark,
The beast,
‘Come out! Come out!’—
It costs no inward struggle not to go,
(...)
And my heart owns a doubt
Whether 'tis in us to arise with day
And save ourselves unaided