Joanna Baillie - Song #7 lyrics

WITH the rough blast heaves the billow, In the light air waves the willow, Every thing of moving kind Varies with the veering wind; What have I to do with thee, Dull, unjoyous Constancy? After fretted, pouting sorrow, Sweet will be thy smile to-morrow; Changing still, each pa**ing thing Fairest is upon the wing: What have I to do with thee, Dull, unjoyous Constancy? Song of love, and satire witty, Sprightly glee and doleful ditty; Every mood and every lay, Welcome all, but do not stay; For what have I to do with thee, Dull, unjoyous Constancy?