The Cold Winds Swept The Mountain-height, And Pathless Was The Dreary Wild, And 'mid The Cheerless Hours Of Night A Mother Wandered With Her Child

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The cold winds swept the mountain-height,
And pathless was the dreary wild,
And 'mid the cheerless hours of night
A mother wandered with her child:
As through the drifting snows she press'd,
The babe was sleeping on her breast.
-- Seba Smith (1792-1868)
-- The Snow Storm

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