It must be nice to follow fall
Rest, my babies, rest
To blanch the landscape, trees and all
Rest, my babies, rest
To still the flies and honey bees
Blowing snow in swirling wreathes
And comb the pines with a frozen breeze
To ice the waves which rule the seas
It must be nice to be winter
It must be nice to sew for spring
Sleep, my babies, sleep
Soon to melt from everything
Sleep, my babies, sleep
To brighten night with a moonlit glare
The might of slumber’s quiet fare
And whistle whispers in the air
To cure the world of summer’s ware
It must be nice to be winter
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
...beautiful word picture, thank you