But cheerily the chickadee
Singeth to me on fence and tree;
The snow sails round him as he sings,
White as the down on angels’ wings.
I watch the snow flakes as they fall
On bank and brier and broken wall;
Over the orchard, waste and brown,
All noiselessly they settle down,
Tipping the apple boughs and each
Light quivering twig of plum and peach.