WINTER.
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With my breath so keen and chilling, I have stripped the branches bare; And my snow-flakes white are filling, Feather-like, the frosty air.
Coming o'er the lofty mountains, There I left a robe of white; I have locked the sparkling fountains, I have chained the river bright.
O'er the quiet valley winging, There I left my traces, too; Hark! the merry sleigh-bells ringing, With their music call on you.
I have come! The school-boy shouting, Joyfully brings out his sled; He has seen me, nothing doubting, As across the fields he sped.
I have come; but shall I find you Better than the former year? If you've cast your faults behind you, I shall gladly greet you here. | |
