It Snows! It Snows!


It snows! yes, it snows! and the children are wild,

At thought of the fun in the snow-drifts up-piled;

The boy with his first new boots is in sight,

And the wee baby-girl, with her mittens so bright.

They are tramping and tossing the snow as they run,

And laughing and shouting, so brimful of fun;

While the ten-year-old twins, in a somersault mood,

Have measured their length from the barn to t
e wood.

A dozen times, yes, or it may be a score,

Till their cheeks are as red as the roses, and more;

Then the elfin of twelve and the boy of fifteen,

Are pelting each other with snowballs so keen,

That we, who are older, forget to be staid,

And shout, each with each, as the youngsters, arrayed

In feathery garments, press on or retreat,

Determined to win, nor acknowledge defeat,

And the snow tumbles down with such beauty and grace

That the air seems filled up with soft, bridal-veil lace,

Through whose meshes the sunbeams shall kiss Mother Earth,

Till the buds and the blossoms are bred into birth.

But the children, at length, tired out with their play,

And stamping the snow from their feet by the way,

Come slipping and stumbling and scrambling along,

While the big brother catching the baby-girl's song,

"Oh, my finders are told!" gives her now a gay toss,

The golden hair streaming like distaff of floss;

And so cheery the group that is ranged round the board,

That for snow, blessed snow! we all thank the good Lord.



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