Villagers all, this frosty tide,
Let your doors swing open wide,
Though wind may follow, and snow beside,
Yet draw us in by your fire to bide;
     Joy shall be yours in the morning!

Here we stand in the cold and the sleet,
Blowing fingers and stamping feet,
Come from far away you to greet ~
You by the fire and we in the street ~
      Bidding you joy in the morning!

~ The field-mice at Mole End "singing one of the old-time carols that their fore-fathers composed in fields that were fallow and held by frost..." THE WIND IN THE WILLOWS, Kenneth Grahame, Methuen & Co. Ltd. London. 1908.

[Photo:  The Grand River, Cayuga. January 19, 2016. lbw]