A W N h（1 / 3）

a ter night

poor naked wretches, wheree&039;er you are,

that bide the peltg of this pitiless stor!

how shall your hoeless heads, and unfed sides,

your loop&039;d and dow&039;d ragdness, defend you

fro seans such as these?—shakespeare

when bitg boreas, fell and dour,

sharp shivers thro&039; the leafless bow&039;r;

when phoeb gies a short-liv&039;d glow&039;r,

far uth the lift,

di-dark&039;ng thro&039; the fky show&039;r,

or whirlg drift:

ae night the stor the steeples rocked,

poor bour sweet sleep was locked,

while burns, wi&039; snawy wreaths up-choked,

wild-eddyg swirl;

or, thro&039; the g outlet bocked,

down headlong hurl:

list&039;ng the doors an&039; nocks rattle,

i thought on the ourie cattle,

or silly sheep, wha bide this brattle

o&039; ter war,

and thro&039; the drift, deep-irg, sprattle

beneath a scar

ilk happg bird,—wee, helpless thg!

that, the rry onths o&039; sprg,

delighted to hear thee sg,

what es o&039; thee?

whare wilt thou w&039;r thy chitterg g,

an&039; close thy e&039;e?

ev&039;n you, on urderg errands toil&039;d,

lone fro your sava hos exil&039;d,

the blood-sta&039;d roost, and sheep-te spoil&039;d

y heart fets,

while pityless the tepest wild

re on you beats!

now phoebe her idnight reign,

dark-uff&039;d, view&039;d the dreary p;

still crowdg thoughts, a pensive tra,

rose y ul,

when on y ear this pntive stra,

slow, len, stole:—

“blow, blow, ye ds, with heavier gt!

and freeze, thou bitter-bitg frost!

descend, ye chilly, sotherg snows!

not all your ra, as now united, shows

ore hard unkdness unrelentg,

venful alice unrepentg

than heaven-il&039;d an on brother an bestows!

“see stern oppression&039;s iron g