The winter sings — aloud it yells, The pine tree with its hundred bells lulls shaggy forest and around it all the rain-drenched clouds Are sadly mounting in their crowds To float to distant land.

And in the yard a blizzard spreads Its lovely silken carpet’s threads, But brings its painful cold. The energetic sparrows flit Like little orphans there and sit close up to window’s hold.

For frozen stiff they huddle tight To warming house with all their might And hunger makes them tired. But, madly roaring, storm’s gusts knock The flapping shutters as they rock — Its anger now is fired.

And gently there the birds now sleep Surrounded by the icy heap Against the frozen pane. And there they dream of lovely thing — How beauteous spring to all will bring Bright sunny smiles again.