I set my face to the bitter wind,
And my heart to the freezing sky;
The arrow drift of the sleet may blind
And sting as it hurtles by.
Yet with hot blood coursing to either cheek
From the strong red heart within,
I laugh aloud and sing as I seek
My onward way to win.
For the cold and wind and the pelt of rain
Are a whip to nerve and limb;
And the harden'd frame is aglow again
In spite of their fury grim.
Then hurrah! for the leaden day so dark,
With its steely sleet and hail!
The cumber'd path and the tempest's wrath,
In the roaring wall of gale!