When biting Boreas, fell and doure, <br />Sharp shivers thro' the leafless bow'r; <br />When Phoebus gies a short-liv'd glow'r, <br /> Far south the lift, <br />Dim-dark'ning thro' the flaky show'r, <br /> Or whirling drift: <br /> <br />Ae night the storm the steeples rocked, <br />Poor Labour sweet in sleep was locked, <br />While burns, wi' snawy wreeths upchoked, <br /> Wild-eddying swirl, <br />Or thro' the mining outlet bocked, <br /> Down headlong hurl. <br /> <br />List'ning, the doors an' winnocks rattle, <br />I thought me on the ourie cattle, <br />Or silly sheep, wha bide this brattle <br /> O' winter war, <br />And thro' the drift, deep-lairing, sprattle, <br /> Beneath a scar. <br /> <br />Ilk happing bird, wee, helpless thing! <br />That, in the merry months o' spring, <br />Delighted me to hear thee sing, <br /> What comes o' thee? <br />Whare wilt thou cow'r thy chittering wing <br /> An' close thy e'e? <br /> <br />Ev'n you on murd'ring errands toil'd, <br />Lone from your savage homes exil'd, <br />The blood-stain'd roost, and sheep-cote spoil'd <br /> My heart forgets, <br />While pityless the tempest wild <br /> Sore on you beats.<br /><br />Robert Burns<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/a-winter-night/
