Soft, the swirling mist lies on the hills
and melting snow the swollen brook o’erfills,
while robin with the hawthorn  vainly vies
to show his crimson plumes to leaden skies.
In the hedgerow field mice sleeping warm
dream of summer fruits and ears of corn,
while in the valley on the frozen pond  
with heads hung low the hungry heron’s stand.
And when the snowfall quickens in the night,
the earth will lie asleep all clothed in white.
As in that wintry land long  long ago
when angels round a stable whispered low
where kings and shepherds knelt before a child,
and the earth shone pure and white.