Sparkling and light
Are the snow-drifts white
In the glow of the winter's morning,
And the icicles gleam
In the sun's bright beam,
Each tree and shrub adorning.
Rosy and fair
In the frosty air
Are the cheeks of the little maiden,
And merry and gay
With the happy day
Is her heart with the sunshine laden.
Where is she bound
O'er the frosty ground?
Ah, that is beyond our knowing.
But wherever she goes,
We may fairly suppose
The sunshine will surely be going.