. Country life reader . meOutside the sparkling drift through the bare-boughed lilac treeOur own warm hearth seemed blazing free. Shut in from all the world sat the clean-winged hearth about,Content to let the north wind roarIn baffled rage at pane and the red logs before us beatThe frost-line back with tropic heat;And ever, when a louder blastShook beam and rafter as it passed,The merrier up its roaring draughtThe great throat of the chimney laughed;The house-dog on his paws outspread,Laid to the fire his drowsy cats dark silhouette on the wallA couch
. Country life reader . meOutside the sparkling drift through the bare-boughed lilac treeOur own warm hearth seemed blazing free. Shut in from all the world sat the clean-winged hearth about,Content to let the north wind roarIn baffled rage at pane and the red logs before us beatThe frost-line back with tropic heat;And ever, when a louder blastShook beam and rafter as it passed,The merrier up its roaring draughtThe great throat of the chimney laughed;The house-dog on his paws outspread,Laid to the fire his drowsy cats dark silhouette on the wallA couchant tigers seemed to fall;And, for the winter fireside meet,Between the andirons straddling feet,The mug of cider simmered slow,The apples sputtered in a , close at hand, the basket stoodWith nuts from brown Octobers wood. THE SNOW-STORM What matter how the night behaved?What matter how the north wind raved ?Blow high, blow low, not all its snowCould quench our hearth-fires ruddy glow. John Greenleaf Whittier. 77. The whirl-dance of the blinding storm.
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Keywords: ., bookcentury1900, bookdecade1910, bookpublishernewyorkchicagoetcc
