Thomas Hardy - The Fallow Deer At The Lonely House

One without looks in tonight
Through the curtain-chink
>From the sheet of glistening white;
One without looks in tonight
As we sit and think
By the fender-brink.

We do not discern those eyes
Watching in the snow;
Lit by lamps of rosy dyes
We do not discern those eyes
Wandering, aglow
Four-footed, tiptoe.

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