Mad as the Mist and Snow

Bolt and bar the shutter，
     For the foul winds blow：
     Our minds are at their best this night，
     And I seem to know
     That everything outside us is
     Mad as the mist and snow.
     Horace there by Homer stands，
     Plato stands below，
     And here is Tully‘s open page.
     How many years ago
     Were you and I unlettered lads
     Mad as the mist and snow？
     You ask what makes me sigh， old friend，
     What makes me shudder so？
     I shudder and I sigh to think
     That even Cicero
     And many-minded Homer were
     Mad as the mist and snow.