To Mesdames Zassetsky and Garschine

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