O winter, churlish and austere,
If lover’s prayer may reach thine ear,
Propitious hear thy suppliant now,
And bid the north wind cease to blow.
Disperse yon clouds, dispel the rain,
And drive yon waters from the plain,
That plain thou makest a fordless sea,
Alas, it parts my love and me.
One minute let thy storms repose,
The moon one minute but disclose,
One moment let her lend a ray,
To light a lover on his way!
And when I reach my Delia’s door,
Let all thy ruffians rage and roar,
Let no fond prayer their fury move,
But keep me, keep me with my love.