The snow is falling on the hemlock boughs:

Courage, Comrade, Spring will come again!

The birds are leaving the evergreen trees,

And that's why they are not deciduous.

O, Winter! I shake thy icy hand,

And, shaking, shovel the beautiful snow:

But what shall I do with such an abundance?

It is already piled high in my neighbor's yard,

And he is watching me from his attic window.

And yet more snow! How pure you seem tho' falling!