Stanching the wind in all the wounded panes,—
Or, holding candles to the panes, in doubt
The wind resolved—blowing the candles out.
No house was whole that had a southern front,—
No greenhouse but the same mishap befell;
Bow-windows and bell-glasses bore the brunt,—
No sex in glass was spared!—For those who dwell
On each hill-side, you might have swum a punt
In any of their parlors;—Mrs. Snell
Was slopped out of her seat,—and Mr. Hitchin