To Mesdames Zassetsky And Garschine by Robert Louis Stevenson
THE wind may blaw the lee-gang way And aye the lift be mirk an' gray, An deep the moss and steigh the brae Where a' maun gang - There's still an hoor in ilka day For luve and sang.
And canty hearts are strangely steeled. By some dikeside they'll find a bield, Some couthy neuk by muir or field They're sure to hit, Where, frae the blatherin' wind concealed, They'll rest a bit.
An' weel for them if kindly fate Send ower the hills to them a mate; They'll crack a while o' kirk an' State, O' yowes an' rain: An' when it's time to take the gate, Tak' ilk his ain.
- Sic neuk beside the southern sea I soucht - sic place o' quiet lee Frae a' the winds o' life. To me, Fate, rarely fair, Had set a freendly company To meet me there.
Kindly by them they gart me sit, An' blythe was I to bide a bit. Licht as o' some hame fireside lit My life for me. - Ower early maun I rise an' quit This happy lee.