II.
Desolate Winter has come again—
Frown on him!
He comes with a withering breath,
With a gloomy scowl,
With a shriek and a howl,
Freezing Nature to death!
He stamps on the hills,
He fetters the rills,
And every hollow with snow he fills!
Frown on the monster grim and old,
With snowy robes and with fingers cold,
And a gusty breath!
Nay, nay! I shall give him a smile!—
For I know by the sleet,
And the snow in the street,
He has come to tarry awhile.
Ho, for the sleigh-bells merrily ringing!
Ho, for the skaters joyously singing—
Over the ice-fields gliding, swinging!—
So let the Winter-king whiten the plain!
Fetter the fountains and frost the pane,
His greeting shall be—
Not a frown from me,
But a smile—a smile!