Snow
By Jane Taylor

O come to the garden, dear brother, and see
What mischief was done in the night;
The snow has quite covered the nice apple tree,
And the bushes are sprinkled with white.

The spring in the grove is beginning to freeze
The pond is hard frozen all o'er;
Long icicles hang in bright rows from the trees,
And drop in odd shapes from the door.

The mossy old thatch, and the meadow so green,
Are covered all over with white;
The snow-drop and crocus no more can be seen,
The thick snow has covered them quite.

And see the poor birds, how they fly to and fro,
They have come for their breakfast again;
But the worms are all hidden under the snow,
They hop about chirping in vain.

Then open the window.  I'll throw them some
  bread,
I've some of my breakfast to spare.
I wish they would come to my hand to be fed,
But they've all flown away, I declare!


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