The Return Home, 31

The weather is bad and stormy,
With rain and tempest and snow;
I sit at the window, gazing
On the gloomy darkness below.

One single light I see glimm’ring
That slowly moves in the street;
’Tis a woman holding a lantern,
And walking with tottering feet.

I expect that she’s making a purchase
Of meal and butter and eggs;
’Tis to bake a cake for her daughter
That she is out now on her legs.

The daughter’s at home in the arm-chair
And sleepily looks at the light,
Her golden locks stray over
Her face so lovely and bright.