Classic Poem

O Winter, biting Winter!
The world is then so small;
Thou mak'st us seek the valleys,
In huts thou shut'st us all.

And when I seek the cottage
Where dwells my treasure dear,
Scarce through the little window
Her little head can peer.

And when with heart love-brimming
I softly close the latch,
She sits 'twixt father and mother,
And scarce a glimpse I catch.

O Summer, glorious Summer!
The world is then so wide,
The higher I climb the mountain,
The broader grows its side.

If on the heights thou standest,
I shout thy name so dear;
The echoes roll it onward,
Yet none, but thou, canst hear.

If in mine arms I hold thee
On the open mountain-plain;
We see vast tracts around us,
But are not seen again!