The fight for what is right. Mother always said never give up a good fight,. Even as a child as i listed all my fears,. She would tell me to be brave and use all of my might. And as the years have gone by i have used these wise words as the bright light,. To the tunnel of life, which i have been seeing though blurry eyed filled with tears,. Because i have done as mom had always said, and have never given up a good fight. And as i said those words it all became clear,.

The rain set early in tonight,. The sullen wind was soon awake,. It tore the elm-tops down for spite,. I listened with heart fit to break. When glided in Porphyria; straight. She shut the cold out and the storm,. And kneeled and made the cheerless grate. Blaze up, and all the cottage warm;. Which done, she rose, and from her form. Withdrew the dripping cloak and shawl,. And laid her soiled gloves by, untied.

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