Page:The Seaside and the Fireside.djvu/67

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45

The Fire of Drift-Wood.



We sat within the farm-house old, Whose windows, looking o'er the bay,Gave to the sea-breeze, damp and cold,An easy entrance, night and day.
Not far away we saw the port,— The strange, old-fashioned, silent town,—The lighthouse,—the dismantled fort,— The wooden houses, quaint and brown.
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