The rain set early in tonight, The sullen wind was soon awake, It tore the elm-tops down for spite, And did its best to vex the lake: I listened with heart fit to break. When glided in Porphyria; straight She shut the cold out and the storm, And kneeled and made the cheerless grate Blaze up and all the cottage warm.

Motherhood: All love begins and ends there.

Fail I alone, in words and deeds? Why, all men strive and who succeeds?

Such ever was love's way: to rise, it stoops.

No work begun shall ever pause for death.

Outside are the storms and strangers: we — Oh, close, safe, warm sleep I and she, — I and she!

Shakespeare was of us, Milton was of us, Burns, Shelley, were with us. They watch from their graves!