Wee snow-birds, white snow-birds, White snow-birds, wee snow-birds,
Through fields skim along!
Winter was on the mountains, but his face was hidden by thick clouds that lay in wait, ready to burst and let loose all the evil that was in them.
 
Now and again, the clouds parted a little. But that was only for a moment; and, when it happened, the snow-clad peaks glittered in the sun till you could look at nothing else and could hardly bear to look at them. And, even when the storm flew wildest over the valley and the river and the trees cracked and broke and fell, even then the clouds lay thick and close before the face of Winter.
 
Sometimes, some of them dissolved into mists, which swept down upon the valley and filled it quite. But they were different mists from those which Spring laid over the land. No violets came from them; in their lap were no crops and no and no life. They were as cold as if there were no sun at all behind them.
 
Sometimes, it rained, in a and endless downpour, day after day. The blast dashed the rain into the eyes of the hare and the stag, till they had to hide where best they could and turn their tails to the wind. The little brown mice could hardly put their noses outside their door; and the sparrows sat and under the leafless bushes. But the crows rocked undaunted on the tallest and held their straight to the wind, so that it should not blow up under their feathers.
 
Sometimes, it snowed as well. But it was a stupid, snow, which melted the moment that it touched the ground.
 
At night, the wind in the mountain-clefts and the in the wood. The leaves ran round and like ghosts. The of the trees swayed sadly to and fro, to and fro.
 
And, whether it snowed or rained or only misted, whether it were day or night, the valley lay ever in a sludge and just as many clouds hung in the mountains. The withered blades of grass hopelessly in the meadow. The waves flowed and cold in the river.
 
Then, one night, it froze.
 
The slush on the ground hardened into a thin crust, which the stag stuck his through, but the hare ran safely across it. The hedgehog shivered in his dreams, the ivy-flowers faded, the got ice upon them.
 
And, next morning early, a thin layer of snow fell over the land. The sun shone again, but far and cold; and the clouds drifted away.
 
The Prince of Winter sat on the mountains: an old man, with white hair and beard. His naked breast was shaggy, shaggy his legs and hands. He looked strong and wild, with cold stern eyes.
 
But he was not angry, as when Spring drove him from the valley and when Autumn did not go quickly enough. He looked out over the kingdom[146] calmly, for now he knew that it was his. And, when he found anything dead or empty or , he plucked at his great white beard and gave a harsh and satisfied laugh.
 
But all that lived in the land was struck with terror when it looked into his cold eyes.
 
The trees shook in their thick bark and the bushes struck their branches together in . The mouse became quite snow-blind, when she peeped outside the door; the stag looked mournfully over the white meadow:
 
“My can still break through the ice, when I drink,” he said. “I can still scrape the snow to one side and find a tuft of grass. But, if things go on like this for another week, then it’s all up with me.”
 
The crows and the chaffinch and the sparrow and the tit had quite lost their voices. They thought of the other birds, who had departed in time, and knew not where to turn in their . At last, they set out in a row to carry their greeting to the new lord of the land:
 
“Here come your birds, O of all princes!” said the crow and stood and marked time in the white snow. “The others left the country as soon as you announced your coming, but we have remained to submit us to your sway. Now be a gracious lord to us and grant us food.”
 
“We bow before Your Highness!” said the chaffinch.
 
“We have so longed for you!” said the tit and put his head on one side.
 
And the sparrow said the same as the others, in a tone of deep respect.
 
But the Prince of Winter laughed at them disdainfully:
 
“Ha, you time-serving birds!” he said. “Now you upon me. In Summer’s time, you amused yourselves merrily; in Autumn’s you ate yourselves and fat; and, as soon as Spring strikes up, you will dance to his piping like the others. I hate you and your screaming and squalling and the trees you about in. You are all here to defy me; and I shall do for you if I can.”
 
Then he rose in all his strength:
 
“I have my own birds and now you shall see them.”
 
He clapped his hands and sang:
 
Wee snow-birds, white snow-birds,
White snow-birds, wee snow-birds,
Through fields skim along!
To jubilant Spring I music of no birds,
To Summer no song.
Come, Winter’s mute messengers, swift birds and slow birds,
White snow-birds, wee snow-birds,
Till the valley be soft as down for your nesting
Of numberless ice-eggs by frosty spanned!
Now rushing, now resting,
White snow-birds, wee snow-birds,
Skim soft through the land!
And Winter’s birds came.
 
Suddenly, it darkened and the air became full of little black , which and turned into great white snowflakes. They fell over the ground, more and more, in an endless multitude; all white and silent, they lay side by side and layer upon layer. The carpet over the land grew ever thicker.
 
The crows and the others took shelter in the forest, while the snow fell, and gazed dejectedly over the valley. There was now not a blade of grass, nor yet a stone to be seen: everything was smooth and soft and white. Only the trees stood out high in the air; and the river flowed through the meadow, black with anger.
 
“I know how to crush you!” said the Prince of Winter.
 
And, when evening came, he told the wind to go down. Then the waves became small and still, Winter stared at them with his cold eyes and the ice built its bridge from bank to bank. In vain the waves tried to hum Spring’s song. There was no strength in their voices. In vain they called upon Summer’s sun and Autumn’s cool breezes. There was none that heard their complaint; and they had to submit to the .
 
Next morning, there was nothing left of the river but a narrow channel; and, when one more night had passed, the bridge was finished. Again the Prince of Winter called for his white birds; and soon the carpet was over the river, till it was no longer possible to see where land began and water ended.
 
But the trees ever so boldly out of the deep snow; and the crows screamed in their tops. The firs and pines had kept all their leaves and were so green that it was quite shocking to . Wherever they stood, they acted as a protection against the frost and a shelter against the snow; and the chaffinch and the other small birds found a refuge under their roofs.
 
The Prince of Winter looked at them angrily:
 
“If I could but cow you, if I could............