'Twas a bitter cold morning; the new-fallen snow
Had pierced every crack where a snowflake could go;
The streams were all solid, the ice sharp and clear;
And even the fishes were chilly, I fear.
Almost all the wild creatures were troubled and cold,
And sighed for sweet summer,—the shy and the bold;
But one thrifty family, as you must know,
Was breakfasting merrily under the snow.
Close by a tall tree, in a hole in the ground,
Which led to a parlor, with leaves cushioned round,
Five jolly red squirrels were sitting at ease,
And eating their breakfast, happy as can be.