The leaves that are brown
spin me 'round, spin me 'round
And the wind that is old blows so cold;
But as winter approaches
And frost it encroaches
There is warmth in the ground, in the
ground
My snug home a burrow
My brow does not furrow
With cares or concerns over food;
My larder is full
And my blanket of wool
And a small cozy fire so good
I am ready for all that the cold has in
store
And I know furthermore one more thing:
That as days do increase
And the light brings great peace
We will meet yet again the sweet Spring.
--fleur 6.ii.04 |