IT blows a snowing gale in the winter of the year;
The boats are on the sea and the crews are on the pier.
The needle of the vane, it is veering to and fro,
A flash of sun is on the veering of the vane.
Autumn leaves and rain,
The passion of the gale.
More verses by Robert Louis Stevenson
- Now When The Number Of My Years
- The Vanquished Knight
- So Live, So Love, So Use That Fragile Hour
- In The Green And Gallant Spring
- Still I Love To Rhyme