Fair is the sky, for the cloud-rack is lifted-
Bright will the day be, though dark was the morn;
Warm was the morn, but the strong wind has shifted
Into the north- where the blizzards are born.
White coward mercury goes down to zero-
Darting about flies a veteran jay,
Braving the breeze, like a blue-coated hero-
Seeking his supper, I venture to say.

Neighbors pass hurriedly, mantled and muffled-
Great coats, and seal-skins, to keep out the storm-
Plump little quail, with their plumage beruffled,
Search in the hedge for a nook that is warm.
That latest blast from the boreal bellows,
Drifted some snow-birds the garden below;
Always their coming, the wise-acres tell us,
Tokens cold weather, and flurries of snow.

Warm sheltered corners the cattle have chosen,
Shivers the pine in its evergreen leaves;
Pools by the roadside in wrinkles are frozen-
Bayonet icicles hang from the eaves.
Five English sparrows, defying the weather,
There in the pathway a conference hold;
Ho! merry midgets in doublets of feathers!
Why do you rally out there in the cold?

Little you care for the riot and rattle-
Little you heed- let the mercury fall!
Brave little fighters, go on with your battle-
Here is a friend who will welcome you all!
Fly to my window- I'll feed every comer-
Hail to the comrades that constancy show
Loving and loyal, in winter and summer-
With us, alike, in the heat and the snow!