THE snow lay on the window-panes,
Winds howled along the leafless lanes;
Within, the fire shone bright and clear,
And Ben sat there and I sat here.

I watched the glow upon his cheek,
Where summer left a sunny streak;
Like pearls the snowy teeth appeared
That glistened through his tawny beard.

"I love you, Dora," murmured Ben;
"Ah! will you love me back again?"
His voice was sweeter than the tune
Of bugles played beneath the moon!

I took two filberts from a bowl,
Two filberts smooth, and brown, and whole;
To each I gave a secret name,
And placed them nigh the clearest flame.

They hissed and burned upon the bars,
And shot a thousand fiery stars:
I trembled lest a certain one
Should leap, and leave my hopes undone.

My fears were vain—my heart was shamed:
The nuts with one accordance flamed.
"They burn together!" quick I cried,
And Ben crept closer to my side.

"They cling together, firm and true;
Each burns for each, as I for you.
Thus let our lives together glow—
Nay, Dora! crush that jesting 'No.'"

The hand that stole around my waist,
The lips that dared my lips to taste,
The breast that hid my blushing cheek,
Translated what I did not speak.

And now the white snow, come again,
Once more peeps through our window-pane,
As Ben and I sit side by side,
Nor has the flame we burned with died.