They fasten the skates, when, away they fleet,
Far over the pond, and beyond retreat,
Unconscious of danger near.
But lo! the ice is beginning to bend—
It cracks—it cracks—and their feet descend!
To whom can they look as a helper—a friend?
Their faces are pale with fear.
In their flight to the pond, they had caught the eye
Of a neighboring peasant, who, lingering nigh,
Aware of their danger, and hearing their cry,