The round Full Moon (in his forehead) smiles;

But with all his wisdom, or all his wiles,

Though he knows very well,

He never will tell

Should he tick and tock till a century old

What they mean by

The Sa-archinkold!

In the great, square room, by a cheerful flame

In the fire-place, bending above her frame,

Is grandma, snapping her chalky string

Across and across a broad, bright thing.

“Gramma, what you are a-doin’ here?”

“I’m a-makin’ a ‘comfort,’ my little dear;

For grandpa and I are a-gittin’ old.

And we’re afeared o’ the Sa-archin’ Cold.”

When the daylight fades, and the shadows fall

Flickering down from the fire-dogs tall,

Comes Uncle Phil, from his school and his books.

“Uncle Phil, I know by your smile-y looks—

You’ll let me—get on your knee—jus’ so—

An’ you’ll tell me somefing I want to know:

’Cos, you see, Uncle Phil, I’ve got to be told

Who she is—they call her

‘The Sa-archinkold.’”

Uncle Phil looks up;

Uncle Phil looks down;

And he wags his head;

And he tries to frown;

But at last he cries

In a great surprise:

“Why, yes! to be sure! to be sure, I’ll tell

For I know the old dame, of old, right well:

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“Zh——zh!

Did you ever meet a

More dreadful creatur!

She’s Jack Frost’s wife!

And the plague of his life!

“Zh!—zh!

I’m all of a shiver,

Heart, lungs and liver!

When I think of that old

Saarchinkold!