And soon, with the breath of his nostrils to freeze
Each thing he can puff at, will Winter be here!
But hardly he'll dare to steal in at the door,
Your elbows to bite with his keen cutting air,
And give you an ague, where I've been before,
To set the defence I to-day can prepare.
And when he comes blustering on from the north,
To give you blue faces, and shakes by the chin,
You'll find what the craft of the mason was worth,
As you from abroad to your parlor step in!