“We bow before Your Highness!” said the chaffinch.
“We have so longed for you,” said the tit, and he put his head on one side.
And the sparrow said the same as the others, in a tone of deep respect.
But the Prince of Winter laughed at them disdainfully.
“Ha, you time-serving birds! In Summer’s time you amused yourselves merrily, in Autumn’s, you ate yourselves stout and fat; and as soon as Spring strikes up you will dance to his piping like the others. I hate you and your screaming and squalling and the trees you hop about in. You are all here to defy me and I shall do for you if I can.” Then he rose in all his strength.
“I have my own birds and now you shall see them.”
He clapped his hands and sang:
“Wee snow-birds, white snow-birds,
White snow-birds, wee snow-birds,
Through fields skim along!
To jubilant Spring I grudge music of no birds,
To Summer, no song.
“Come, Winter’s mute messengers,
Swift birds and slow birds,
White snow-birds, wee snow-birds,
Till the valley be soft as down for your nestling
Of numberless ice-eggs by frosty rims spanned!
Now rushing, now resting,
White snow-birds, wee snow-birds,
Skim soft thro’ the land!”
And Winter’s birds came.