A Fantasy

I saw Winter 'neath a spindle tree, She plucked berries bright to crown her head. She was singing little robin's song While wild beech-leaves round and round her spread. I ran home into my little house, Pulled to the shutters, barred up the door; I knelt down to blow the fire to flame, Great dark shadows danced upon the floor. Long-legged shadows came from corners drear, Leaped up white walls, fell, and climbed again. I hear North Wind pushing at the gate, I won't open, not for wind or rain. Oh, run home, wee ones, lest the whirling leaves Take ye far away, fairy folk to see. Crowning her dark hair with berries red I saw Winter 'neath a spindle tree.