Page:Lilliput Levee.djvu/183

 Sing bear's grease! curling-irons to sell!

Sing combs and brushes! sing tortoise-shell!

O yes! ding dong! the crier, the bell!

—Isn't this a pretty tale to tell?

It is a Winter night,

And the stilly earth is white

With the blowing of the lilies of the snow!

Once it was as red

With the roses Summer shed,—

But the roses fled with Summer long ago!

We sang a merry tune

In the jolly days of June,

And we danced adown the garden in the light:

Now December's come.

And our hearts are dark and dumb,

And we huddle o'er the embers here to night!