My window-pane is starred with frost, br The world is bitter cold to-night, br The moon is cruel, and the wind br Is like a two-edged sword to smite. br br God pity all the homeless ones, br The beggars pacing to and fro, br God pity all the poor to-night br Who walk the lamp-lit streets of snow. br br My room is like a bit of June, br Warm and close-curtained fold on fold, br But somewhere, like a homeless child, br My heart is crying in the cold.