Winter A Dirge


The wintry west extends his blast, And hail and rain 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 joyless 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 Power 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 - O do Thou grant This one request of mine! - Since to enjoy Thou dost deny, Assist me to resign.

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Ian McDiarmid

About this work

This is a poem by Robert Burns. It was written in 1781 and is read here by Ian McDiarmid.

Themes for this poem

naturereligionregret

Selected for 10 January

In his frequent complaints about the cold weather, Robert Burns was not exaggerating. The period 1550 to 1850 is sometimes referred to as 'The Little Ice Age' and the winters of 1780s were especially severe. If Burns cannot truly enjoy 'the heartless day', he can at least pray to be resigned to it.

Donny O'Rourke

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