The morning was cold br As I drew back the curtains, br And breathed on the glass br Of my still frozen pane, br As the ice slowly melted br And I could see out, br At a landscape so pretty br A snow laden plain. br br The icicles hung br From the gutter above, br I stood and I watched br As the snowflakes did fall, br Alas the poor robin br Just stood there alone, br On the crest of a fencepost br And sang his sweet call. br br The squirrel upon br Twisted boughs of an oak, br Whose branches were dusted br And powdered in white, br As flakes were still falling br From grey leaden skies, br And cloaking the dawning br Of first breaking light. br br The footprints of creatures br Made patterns and pictures, br And moving in circles br On snow covered ground, br The morning was still br And so peaceful the day, br I gazed at my window br At winter surround.