Little ladies, white and green,
[31] Are you glad to cheer us?
Hunger not for where you've been,
Stay till Spring be near us!
Frost[ToC]
The flowers in the garden
Are very cold at night;
When I look out of window
Their beds are hard and white.
The primrose and the scilla,
The merry crocus too—
O Jane! if we were flowers,
What should we children do?
We'd have to sleep all naked
Beneath the windy trees;
Yet we should die, I know it,
With even a chemise....