POEM: 18 Hours in the Blizzard
It was the twelfth of January,
When the wind was soft and warm,
That we started to our house.
In Dakota, not a mile from father's farm.
We had not gone half way
When the storm, so fierce and wild,
Struck us, nearly burying
Husband, wife and child.
We tried our home to find,
But could not find the way,
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