Classic Poem

Cold the day and cold the drifted snow,
Dim the day until the cold dark night.
[Stirs the fire.

Crackle, sparkle, faggot; embers glow:
Some one may be plodding thro' the snow
Longing for a light,
For the light that you and I can show.
If no one else should come,
Here Robin Redbreast's welcome to a crumb,
And never troublesome:
Robin, why don't you come and fetch your crumb?

Here's butter for my hunch of bread,
 And sugar for your crumb;
Here's room upon the hearthrug,
 If you'll only come.

In your scarlet waistcoat,
 With your keen bright eye,
Where are you loitering?
 Wings were made to fly!

Make haste to breakfast,
 Come and fetch your crumb,
For I'm as glad to see you
 As you are glad to come.[Two Robin Redbreasts are seen tapping with their beaks at the lattice, which January opens. The birds flutter in, hop about the floor, and peck up the crumbs and sugar thrown to them. They have scarcely finished their meal, when a knock is heard at the door. January hangs a guard in front of the fire, and opens to February, who appears with a bunch of snowdrops in her hand.]
 JANUARY.
Good-morrow, sister.