Up,—for the sport is keen and good
Across the bright and icy plain.
On each impatient foot to-day,
The ringing steel again we’ll bind,
And o’er the crystal plain away,
We’ll leave the world and care behind.
And, oh! what joy is ours to play,
In rapid, round, and swift career,
And snatch beneath the wintry day,
One moment’s rest, and hasty cheer.