To Aberdeen

At the great dance and upleap of the year,
For me, of late, the northwind's cold accost
Was all day long in thy warm welcome lost.
How can I choose henceforth but hold thee dear?
Hoary thy countenance, and thy mien severe,
And thou a nursling of the hailstorm wast,
But on thy heart hath fall'n no touch of frost,
O City of the pallid brow austere.
Grey, wintry-featured, sea-throned Aberdeen!
The stranger thou hast honoured shall not cease,
In whatsoever ways he rest or roam,
To wish thee happy fortune, fame serene:
Thee and thy towers of learning and of peace,
That brood benignant on the northern foam.
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