Winter’s blast is coldly sweeping
O’er the pallid face of earth;
All the merry elves are sleeping,
Wearied out with last year’s mirth;
Dismal spirits doomed to wander,
Never resting anywhere,
Chase the sparkling crystals yonder
Through the chill and cheerless air;
Where the birds sang in the branches
Not a sound is heard at all;
Snowy flakes in avalanches
Flutter down with silent fall;
Where the grasses nursed the flowers
Not a sign of life is seen
And the frost has turned the showers
Into sheets of icy sheen;
All the air is sadly sighing,
All the trees with sorrows ring;
All is dying—dying—dying
Winter—go! come back, O Spring.