And wild tangled mazes bespangled with flowers.
But 'mid the sweet music of jingling bells
You hear the old pessimist counting his ills.
With a sorrowful shake of the head murmurs he,
"Such nasty cold weather I never did see;
The streets are so slip'ry one can't walk at all,
For danger of breaking a leg by a fall;
Unless a few days bring a great change about,
The wheat in the ground will be all frozen out."
But roguish old Winter soon bundles his pack