Explore "The Wind is Without there and Howls in the Trees" by Robert Louis Stevenson on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
THE wind is without there and howls in the trees, / And the rain-flurries drum on the glass: / Alone by the fireside with elbows on knees / I can number the hours as they pass.
Yet now, when to cheer me the crickets begin, / And my pipe is just happily lit, / Believe me, my friend, tho' the evening draws in, / That not all uncontested I sit.