It’s frost-flakes, frost-flakes everywhere, And snowflakes heaped on, an ermine mound; It’s a chilling breeze as forth we fare And eerie silence all around; While even the sun gleams wanly through A cloud-veil shrouding the heaven’s blue.

It’s winter, winter over the land; A leafless orchard, the meadow still, No swallow soars and no blackbirds calls, We miss the song of the whip-poor-will; No longer the shrill cicada’s cry Sounds at our feet as we hasten by.

It’s beauty, beauty on lake and lea, And cheeks are glowing and eyes are bright; Into magical world we go, A wonderful world of gleaming white. We break the silence with songs of praise To God for the glory of winter days.