To tremble from cold in the icy snow,

In the harsh breath of a horrid wind;

To run, stamping one's feet every moment,

Our teeth chattering in the extreme cold

Before the fire to pass peaceful,

Contented days while the rain outside pours down.

We tread the icy path slowly and cautiously,

for fear of tripping and falling.

Then turn abruptly, slip, crash on the ground and,

rising, hasten on across the ice lest it cracks up.

We feel the chill north winds course through the home

despite the locked and bolted doors...

this is winter, which nonetheless

brings its own delights.