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218	https://www.dickenssearch.com/items/show/218	'Song of the Kettle'		Published in <em>The Cricket on the Hearth. A Fairy Tale of Home</em> (Bradbury and Evans, December 1845), p.7.		<em>Hathi Trust,</em> <a href="https://catalog.hathitrust.org/Record/102287704">https://catalog.hathitrust.org/Record/102287704</a>.		<a href="/items/browse?advanced%5B0%5D%5Belement_id%5D=40&advanced%5B0%5D%5Btype%5D=is+exactly&advanced%5B0%5D%5Bterms%5D=1845-12">1845-12</a>						<a href="/items/browse?advanced%5B0%5D%5Belement_id%5D=51&advanced%5B0%5D%5Btype%5D=is+exactly&advanced%5B0%5D%5Bterms%5D=Poem">Poem</a>	1845-12-Song_of_the_Kettle																										Dickens, Charles. 'Song of the Kettle' (1845). <em>Dickens Search.</em> Eds. Emily Bell and Lydia Craig. Accessed [date]. <a href="https://www.dickenssearch.com/verse/1846-12-Song_of_the_Kettle">https://www.dickenssearch.com/verse/1846-12-Song_of_the_Kettle</a>.																													It’s a dark night, sang the Kettle, and the rotten leaves are lying by the way; and, above, all is mist and darkness, and below, all is mire and clay; and there’s only one relief in all the sad and murky air; and I don’t know that it is one, for it’s nothing but a glare, of deep and angry crimson, where the sun and wind together, set a brand upon the clouds for being guilty of such weather; and the widest open country is a long dull streak of black; and there’s hoar-frost on the finger-post, and thaw upon the track; and the ice it isn’t water, and the water isn’t free; and you couldn’t say that anything is what it ought to be; but he’s coming, coming, coming!—	18451201								https://www.dickenssearch.com/files/original/3/Song_of_the_Kettle/1845-12-Song_of__the_Kettle.pdf