On stormy nights the drifting cohorts come,
Shrieking their battle song upon the gale;
They sweep the forests with their distant hum,
They trail their mantles over hill and vale.
A tattoo sounds upon the frosty pane,
And all the air is thickened with the flights
Of snowflakes, where old winter stalks amain
On stormy nights.

On stormy nights my crackling wood fire glows,
My cozy cricket chirps a merry tune,
And howling winds and frost and drifting snows
Bring brighter visions of the skies of June.
When constant friends bid loneliness depart,
And books provide a store of old delights,
We find that summer reigns within the heart
On stormy nights.

— H. E. Russell.



See:
William C. Levere (editor), The Evanston Poets, Evanston (Illinois): William S. Lord, 1903, p. 15

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