"A nipping frost was in the air,
On flowers and grass it fell;
And the leaves were still on the eastern hill
As if touched by a fairy spell.
"To the very top of the tall nut-trees
The frost-king seemed to ride;
With his wand he stirs the chestnut burs,
And straight they are opened wide.
"And squirrels and children together dream
Of the coming winter's hoard;
And many, I ween, are the chestnuts seen
In hole or in garret stored.
"The children are sleeping in feather-beds--
Poor Bun in his mossy nest,--
He courts repose with his tail on his nose.
On the others warm blankets rest.
"Late in the morning the sun gets up
From behind the village spire;
And the children dream, that the first red gleam
Is the chestnut trees on fire!
"The squirrel had on when he first awoke
All the clothing he could command;
And his breakfast was light--he just took a bite
Of an acorn that lay at hand;
"And then he was off to the trees to work;--
While the children some time it takes
To dress and to eat what they think meet
Of coffee and buckwheat cakes.
"The sparkling frost when they first go out,
Lies thick upon all around;
And earth and grass, as they onward pass,
Give a pleasant crackling sound.
"O there is a heap of chestnuts, see!'
Cried the youngest of the train;
For they came to a stone where the squirrel had thrown
What he meant to pick up again.
"And two bright eyes from the tree o'erhead,
Looked down at the open bag
Where the nuts went in--and so to begin,
Almost made his courage flag.