White snow-birds, wee snow-birds,
Till the valley be soft as down for your nesting
Of numberless ice-eggs by frosty rims spanned!
Now rushing, now resting,
White snow-birds, wee snow-birds,
Skim soft through the land!
And Winter’s birds came.
Suddenly, it darkened and the air became full of little black specks, which descended and turned into great white snowflakes. They fell over the ground, more and more, in an endless multitude; all white and silent, they lay side by side and layer upon layer. The carpet over the land grew ever thicker.
The crows and the others took shelter in the forest, while the snow fell, and gazed dejectedly over the valley. There was now not a blade of grass, nor yet a stone to be seen: everything was smooth and soft and white. Only the trees stood out high in the air; and the river flowed through the meadow, black with anger.
“I know how to crush you!” said the Prince of Winter.