THE wintry wast extends his blast, And hail and ram does blaw; Or the stormy north sends driving forth The blinding sleet and snaw: While, tumbling brown, the burn comes down, And roars frae bank to brae: And bird and beast in covert rest, And pass the heartless day. ‘The sweeping blast, the sky o’ercast,’ The joyiess winter-day, Let others fear, to me more dear Than all the pride of May: The tempest’s howl, it soothes my soul, My griefs it seems to join; The leafless trees my fancy please, Their fate resembles mine! Thou Pow’r Supreme, whose mighty scheme These woes of mine fulfil, Here, firm, I rest,-they must be best, Because they are Thy will! Then all I want (Oh! do thou grant This one request of mine!) Since to enjoy thou dost deny, Assist me to resign.
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