PRINCE WINTER
Carl Ewald
The Prince of Winter sat on the mountains: an old man with white hair and beard. His naked breast was shaggy, shaggy his legs and hands. He looked strong and wild with cold stern eyes.
But he was not angry as when Spring drove him from the valley and when Autumn did not go quickly enough. He looked out over the kingdom calmly for he knew that it was his. And, when he found anything dead or empty or desolate, he plucked at his great white beard and gave a harsh and satisfied laugh.
But all that lived in the land was struck with terror when it looked into his cold eyes.
The trees shook in their thick bark, and the bushes struck their branches together in consternation. The mouse became quite snow-blind, when she peeped outside the door; the stag looked mournfully over the white meadow.
“My muzzle can still break thro’ the ice, when I drink,” he said. “I can still scrape the snow to one side and find a tuft of grass. But, if things go on like this for another week, then it’s all up with me.”
The crow and the chaffinch and the sparrow and the tit had quite lost their voices. They thought of the other birds, who had departed in time, and they who remained knew not where to turn in their distress. At last they set out in a row to carry their humble greeting to the new lord of the land.
“Here come your birds, O mightiest of all Princes!” said the crow and stood and marked time in the white snow. “The others left the country as soon as you announced your coming, but we have remained to submit us to your sway. Now be a gracious lord to us and grant us food.”