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HE wintry west extends his blast,
And hail and rain does blaw;
The blinding sleet and snaw :
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 joyless winter-day,
Than all the pride of May:
My griefs it seems to join ;
Their fate resembles mine!
Thou power Supreme, whose mighty scheme
These woes of mine fulfil,
Because they are Thy will!
This one request of mine !)
Assist me to resign.
The Cotter's Saturday Night.'
INSCRIBED TO ROBERT AIKEN, ESQ.
My loved, my honour'd, much-respected friend!
No mercenary bard his homage pays;
My dearest meed, a friend's esteem and praise :
The lowly train in life's sequester'd scene;
What Aiken in a cottage would have been ;
November chill blaws loud wi' angry sugh ;
The short'ning winter-day is near a close;
The black’ning trains o' craws to their repose ;
This night his weekly moil is at an end,
Hoping the morn in ease and rest to spend,