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.