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To Mesdames Zassetsky And Garschine

 THE wind may blaw the lee-gang way
And aye the lift be mirk an' gray,
An deep the moss and steigh the brae
Where a' maun gang -
There's still an hoor in ilka day
For luve and sang.
And canty hearts are strangely steeled.
By some dikeside they'll find a bield, Some couthy neuk by muir or field They're sure to hit, Where, frae the blatherin' wind concealed, They'll rest a bit.
An' weel for them if kindly fate Send ower the hills to them a mate; They'll crack a while o' kirk an' State, O' yowes an' rain: An' when it's time to take the gate, Tak' ilk his ain.
- Sic neuk beside the southern sea I soucht - sic place o' quiet lee Frae a' the winds o' life.
To me, Fate, rarely fair, Had set a freendly company To meet me there.
Kindly by them they gart me sit, An' blythe was I to bide a bit.
Licht as o' some hame fireside lit My life for me.
- Ower early maun I rise an' quit This happy lee.

Poem by Robert Louis Stevenson
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