I often dream a Winter chalet
Nestled ‘pon a timbered hill,
Below display’n the snowy valley
Where a village braves the chill.
A fresh new snow invades to sally
Forth, to wit, yon scenic fill.

And evergreens lay low and heavy—
Look as tho’ they’re frosted treats—
And in a clear the children levy
Making merry when they meet,
And soon the church bells ring a’bevy:
Joyful days lay at my feet!