And if perchance the chickadee
Lisp a faint note anon,
The snow is summer's canopy,
Which she herself put on.
Rare blossoms deck the cheerful trees,
And dazzling fruits depend,
The north wind sighs a summer breeze,
The nipping frosts to fend,
Bringing glad tidings unto me,
While that I stand all ear,
Of a serene eternity,
That need not winter fear.
Out on the silent pond straightway
The restless ice doth crack,
And pond sprites merry gambols play
Amid the deaf'ning rack.
Eager I press me to the vale
As I had heard brave news,
How nature held high festival,
Which it were hard to lose.
I crack me with my neighbor ice,
And sympathizing quake,
As each new rent darts in a trice
Across the gladsome lake.
One with the cricket in the ground,
