Classic Poem

Hey, what atrocious weather,
Tempest and rain and snow;
I sit at my window gazing
Into the darkness below.

One dim light, moving slowly,
Is the only thing in the street;
By her lantern a little old woman
Crosses with tottering feet.

I think she's been buying butter
And eggs and flour, to bake
For that fair young maiden, her daughter,
Whom she loves so well, a cake;

The maiden blinks at the candle,
Curled up in a great arm-chair;
Around her sweet face glistens
A halo of golden hair.