Robert Louis Stevenson (from A Child’s Garden of Verses, 1885)
Late lies the wintry sun a-bed,
A frosty, fiery sleepy-head,
Blinks but an hour or two, and then,
A blood-red orange, sets again.
Before the stars have left the skies,
At morning in the dark I rise,
And shivering in my nakedness,
By the cold candle, bathe and dress.
Close by the jolly fire I sit,
To warm my frozen bones a bit,
Or with a reindeer-sled, explore,
The colder countries round the door.
When I go out, my nurse doth wrap,
Me in my comforter and a cap,
The cold wind burns my face, and blows,
Its frosty pepper up my nose.
Black are my steps on silver sod,
Thick blows my frosty breath abroad,
And tree and house, and hill and lake,
Are frosted like a wedding cake.