This week’s Featured Poem from Sara Teasdale seems suitable for the present time, A Winter’s Night.
A sober reminder from American poet Sara Teasdale that as the bitter cold nights creep in, we should remember those without a roof over their heads. Teasdale died in 1933 but homelessness remains a serious problem in the present day.
A Winter Night
My window-pane is starred with frost,
The world is bitter cold to-night,
The moon is cruel, and the wind
Is like a two-edged sword to smite.
God pity all the homeless ones,
The beggars pacing to and fro.
God pity all the poor to-night
Who walk the lamp-lit streets of snow.
My room is like a bit of June,
Warm and close-curtained fold on fold,
But somewhere, like a homeless child,
My heart is crying in the cold.
by Sara Teasdale