Gigantic loom, stoop low:
Each little hasty footfall calls
Hollowly to and fro.

In the cold solitude her heart
Remembers sorrowfully
White winters when her mother was
Her loving company.

Now in the dark clear glass she sees
A taper, mocking hers,--
A phantom face of light blue eyes,
Reflecting phantom fears.

Around her loom the vacant rooms,
Wind the upward stairs,
She climbs on into a loneliness
Only her taper shares.

Out in the dark a cold wind stirs,
At every window sighs;
A waning moon peers small and chill
From out the cloudy skies,

Casting faint tracery on the walls;
So stony still the house
From cellar to attic rings the shrill
Squeak of the hungry mouse.

Her grandmother is deaf with age;