From our horizons drives accustomed cheer,
Behold! a thousand winged sprites appear
And flutter briskly round the frosty plain.
No seeds are anywhere, save sleety rain,
No leafage thick against the outlook drear;
Rough winds to wildly whip them far and near;
God's heart alone to feel their every pain.
Dear little travelers through this icy realm,
Fear not the tempest shall you overwhelm;
The glad spring buds within your happy song.