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IN THE STORM, by                    
First Line: My child, your hero may not be
Last Line: And sorrow come to dwell with you.
Subject(s): Love; Problems; Quarrels; Relationships; Arguments; Disagreements


My child, your hero may not be,
In truth, a hero all the time;
Remember, it must chance that he
Shall still have rugged steeps to climb.
Don't place him on too high a plane
In fancy; then he will not fall
In your esteem and may attain
To something noble after all.

My boy, don't think your sweetheart bears
A halo on her golden hair;
A crown of purity she wears,
And you must help to keep it there.
But she will have her trying moods,
And be not always kind and sweet;
These are life's nerving interludes—
Sad pitfalls for unwary feet.

You both are far from perfect yet,
And quarrels will, unhaply, come—
Both may be wrong; so don't forget,
In anger's blind delirium,
That sweet concessions each must make
And tender promises renew;
Or else a loving heart may break
And sorrow come to dwell with you.





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