Cauld is the e'enin' blast, O' Boreas o'er the pool, An' dawin' it is dreary, When birks are bare at Yule. Cauld blaws the e'enin blast, When bitter bites the frost, And, in the mirk and dreary drift, The hills and glens are lost: Ne'er sae murky blew the night That drifted o'er the hill, But bonnie Peg-a-Ramsay Gat grist to her mill. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE GOLDEN TARGE by WILLIAM DUNBAR DOWN THE MISSISSIPPI: 6. NIGHT LANDING by JOHN GOULD FLETCHER THE SUPPLIANT by EDMUND WILLIAM GOSSE THE SHIP STARTING by WALT WHITMAN THE POET'S SPEAR by ARCHILOCHUS A NEW PILGRIMAGE: 12 by WILFRID SCAWEN BLUNT |