Explore "A Winter Night" by Robert Burns on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
Poor naked wretches, wheresoe'er you are, / That bide the pelting of this pitiless storm! / How shall your houseless heads, and unfed sides, / Your loop'd and window'd raggedness, defend you / From seasons such as these? -Shakespeare.
When biting Boreas, fell and dour, / Sharp shivers thro' the leafless bow'r; / When Phoebus gies a short-liv'd glow'r, / Far south the lift, / Dim-dark'ning thro' the flaky show'r, / Or whirling drift: