Late lies the wintry sun a-bed, A frosty, fiery sleepy-head; Blinks but
an hour or two; and then, A blood-red orange, sets again.
Before the stars have left the skies, At morning in the dark I rise; And
shivering in my nakedness, By the cold candle, bathe and dress.
Close by the jolly fire I sit To warm my frozen bones a bit; Or with a
reindeer-sled, explore The colder countries round the door.
When to go out, my nurse doth wrap Me in my comforter and cap; The
cold wind burns my face, and blows Its frosty pepper up my nose.
Black are my steps on silver sod; Thick blows my frosty breath abroad;
And tree and house, and hill and lake, Are frosted like a wedding cake.
![](http://imagev2.xmcdn.com/group78/M06/00/FD/wKgO4F5pBdTBaL_3AASlzdk9vfg253.jpg!strip=1&quality=7&magick=jpg&op_type=5&upload_type=cover&name=web_large&device_type=ios)
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