Cold was the night wind, drifting fast the snows fell,Wide were the downs and shelterless and naked,When a poor Wanderer struggled on her journeyWeary and way-sore.Drear were the downs, more dreary her reflexions;Cold was the night wind, colder was her bosom!She had no home, the world was all before her,She had no shelter.Fast o'er the bleak heath rattling drove a chariot,"Pity me!" feebly cried
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