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a web of many textures

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The angry rain is cold without,
The wind is bleak and high,
And as we sit the hearth about,
And hear the storm go by,
We glance out through the spreading gloom,
While pain invades our bliss,
And sigh and say, God help the poor,
On such a night as this!
And then our thought far o'er the main
On ready pinion speeds, —
Thought needs no shelter from the rain,
As the poor body needs; —
We see the white-capped waves uprear,
Below, the dark abyss;
Heaven guard the sailor! is our prayer,
On such a night as this.
The ruddy fire sends forth its glow,
And cheerful faces meet,
Where conversation's charms outflow
In loving cadence sweet;


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The raging winds our ears assail,
And by the casement hiss,
Our haven shields us from the gale,
On such a night as this.
And thoughts of distant friends awake,
And thoughts of bygone hours,
When their fond offices of love
Bestrewed our path with flowers.
Where are they now, the loved, the lost,
Whose forms we ever miss?
Turn they a passing thought for us
On such a night as this?
And one sweet child, our joy and pride,
Has wandered from our sight,
We miss her prattle by our side,
We miss her eyes so bright;
We know she dwells where storms ne'er come
To mar her perfect bliss;
O! does her tender thought come home,
On such a night as this?
The social game or books beguile
The hours as they flee;
The pleasant word awakes the smile
The genial love to see;
The surging of the angry rain
Cannot disturb, I wis,
The goodly cheer that clusters here,
On such a night as this.
With grateful thrill the heart outpours,
Though winds and rains assail;
We have no fear within our doors,
Where love and peace prevail;
The rattling rain may dash amain,
It hinders not our kiss —
That household charm the heart doth warm,
On such a night as this.