MCX

Welcome, wild North-easter!
    Shame it is to see
Odes to every zephyr;
    Ne’er a verse to thee.
Welcome, black North-easter!
    O’er the German foam;
O’er the Danish moorlands,
    From thy frozen home.
Tired we are of summer,
    Tired of gaudy glare,
Showers soft and steaming,
    Hot and breathless air.
Tired of listless dreaming,
    Through the lazy day:
Jovial wind of winter
    Turn us out to play!
Sweep the golden reed-beds;
    Crisp the lazy dyke;
Hunger into madness
    Every plunging pike.
Fill the lake with wild-fowl;
    Fill the marsh with snipe;
While on dreary moorlands
    Lonely curlew pipe.
Through the black fir-forest
    Thunder harsh and dry,
Shattering down the snow-flakes
    Off the curdled sky.
Hark! The brave North-easter!
    Breast-high lies the scent,
On by holt and headland,
    Over heath and bent.
Chime, ye dappled darlings,
    Through the sleet and snow.
Who can over-ride you?
    Let the horses go!
Chime, ye dappled darlings,
    Down the roaring blast
You shall see a fox die
    Ere an hour be past.
Go! and rest to-morrow,
    Hunting in your dreams,
While our skates are ringing
    O’er the frozen streams.
Let the luscious South-wind
    Breathe in lovers’ sighs,
While the lazy gallants
    Bask in ladies’ eyes.
What does he but soften
    Heart alike and pen?
’Tis the hard grey weather
    Breeds hard English men.
What’s the soft South-wester?
    ’Tis the ladies’ breeze,
Bringing home their true-loves
    Out of all the seas:
But the black North-easter,
    Through the snowstorm hurled,
Drives our English hearts of oak
    Seaward round the world.
Come, as came our fathers,
    Heralded by thee,
Conquering from the eastward,
    Lords by land and sea.
Come; and strong within us
    Stir the Vikings’ blood;
Bracing brain and sinew;
    Blow, thou wind of God!
          Charles Kingsley