Songs and Poems by George Sigerson :: :: University of Virginia Library

The heathery hills are covered with snow,
The flakes are floating and falling slow,
The tame, wee robin is cheeping low—
Bare hedges give no cover;
The ice-pond chirps, the cold winds sweep,
I pity the poor little mountain sheep,
So slumber, baby, slumber and sleep
Till winter days are over!

The bore-trees creak, the woods deplore,
Long icicles hang the panes before,—
I wonder what sound has come to the door,
Or who may be the rover?—
Thou shivering snow-child! come to the heat,—
I pity all poor little naked feet,
That wander and tremble through snow and sleet
Till winter days are over.

Now, baby dearie, what think you
To clothe each poor cold foot in a shoe?
You need not crow, for yours will not do—
My merry little lover!
Your one last brother, my baby fair!
His shoes will never and never wear,
They'll be this little one's gladdening share
Till winter days are over.

For swine are housed, and kine are warm,
The dog by the fireside dreads no harm—
And ah! to see Christ's child in the storm,
A wanderer without cover.
'Tis sweet to have, but not all to keep,
And 'tis good, sometimes, to know to weep,
And I pity the heart that would slumber and sleep
Till winter days are over.