Winter: season of quiet and contemplation:
(image from flickr.com):
In the midst of Winter battle still
held captive in a grip of ice solidified-
nothing to be done, but to succumb
till Spring of victory warmly won.
Scottish poet Robert Burns (1759 – 1796)
lived during a period in which the British Isles
experienced brutally severe winter seasons-
often referred to as ‘The Little Ice Age’.
Those of the 1780s were said to be particularly relentless.
Burns’ poem- Winter, A Dirge
creates a visual of winter’s harshness of clime
and emotes a melancholia of sentiment.
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.