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Paul Laurence Dunbar - Winter Song
Work rating: Low

OH, who would be sad tho` the sky be a-graying,
And meadow and woodlands are empty and bare;
For softly and merrily now there come playing,
The little white birds thro` the winter-kissed air.
The squirrel`s enjoying the rest of the thrifty,
He munches his store in the old hollow tree;
Tho` cold is the blast and the snow-flakes are drifty
He fears the white flock not a whit more than we.
Chorus:
Then heigho for the flying snow!
Over the whitened roads we go,
With pulses that tingle,
And sleigh-bells a-jingle
For winter`s white birds here`s a cheery heigho!
Source
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