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! | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...JOHN BROWN'S BODY by CHARLES SPRAGUE HALL THE LOST CHORD by ADELAIDE ANNE PROCTER MONNA INNOMINATA, A SONNET OF SONNETS: 7 by CHRISTINA GEORGINA ROSSETTI COMPOSED BY THE SEA-SIDE NEAR CALAIS [AUGUST 1802] by WILLIAM WORDSWORTH HIS HEART, INTO A BIRD by PHILIP AYRES |