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AST night, above the whistling wind,

I heard the welcome rain;

A fusilade upon the roof,

A tattoo on the pane.

The key-hole piped; the chimney-top

A warlike trumpet blew,

Yet mingling with these sounds of strife

A softer voice stole through.

"Give thanks, O brothers," said the voice,

"That He who sent the rains

Hath spared your fields the scarlet dew

That drips from patriot veins.