The Four Seasons

by Carl Ewald

Now and again, the clouds parted a little. But that was only for a moment; and, when it happened, the snow-clad peaks glittered in the sun till you could look at nothing else and could hardly bear to look at them. And, even when the storm flew wildest over the valley and the river foamed and the trees cracked and broke and fell, even then the clouds lay thick and close before the face of Winter.

Sometimes, some of them dissolved into mists, which swept down upon the valley and filled it quite. But they were different mists from those which Spring laid over the land. No violets came from them; in their lap were no crops and no longing and no life. They were as cold as if there were no sun at all behind them.

Sometimes, it rained, in a dense and endless downpour, day after day. The blast dashed the rain into the eyes of the hare and the stag, till they had to hide where best they could and turn their tails to the wind. The little brown mice could hardly put their noses outside their door; and the sparrows sat rumpled and disconsolate under the leafless bushes. But the crows rocked undaunted on the tallest twigs and held their beaks straight to the wind, so that it should not blow up under their feathers.

Sometimes, it snowed as well. But it was a stupid, sluggish snow, which melted the moment that it touched the ground.

At night, the wind hooted in the mountain-clefts and the owl in the wood. The withered leaves ran round and rustled like ghosts. The boughs of the trees swayed sadly to and fro, to and fro.

And, whether it snowed or rained or only misted, whether it were day or night, the valley lay ever in a horrid sludge and just as many clouds hung lurking in the mountains. The withered blades of grass eddied hopelessly in the meadow. The waves flowed bleak and cold in the river.

Then, one night, it froze.

The slush on the ground hardened into a thin crust, which the stag stuck his hoof through, but the hare ran safely across it. The hedgehog shivered in his dreams, the ivy-flowers faded, the puddles got ice upon them.

And, next morning early, a thin layer of snow fell over the land. The sun shone again, but far and cold; and the clouds drifted away.

The Prince of Winter sat on the mountains: an old man, with white hair and beard. His naked breast was shaggy, shaggy his legs and hands. He looked strong and wild, with cold stern eyes.