The world outside is dark; my fire burns low;

All's quiet, save the ticking of the clock

And rusding of the ruddy coals, that flock

Together, hot and red, to gleam and glow.

The sad old year is near his overthrow,

And all the world is waiting for the shock

That frees the new year from his dungeon lock.—

So the tense earth lies waiting in her snow.

(...)

All sounds of joy to me seem out of tune,—

(...)

Descemos na praia, with our dads.

All the same, all the same.

Aqui ou não, eu sempre tenho que começar desse jeito.