Whilst they shivered and shook with the cold,
Icy cold of the gauntlet that Jack Frost
Laid upon the soft down of their breasts.
Thus vanished the forests away,
And the green smiling farm-fields succeeded,
Some like the tawny lion-skin,
Some spotted like the robe of the ounce,
And some striped like the splendid glory of the tiger.
The cabin arose in its clearing,
The kine-bells sent tinklings like sounds of silver amidst the thickets and bushes,