Veiled and snowy, a lovely bride,
The Winter winds caress her face,
And clouds, her maids, are gathered,
Dressing her in snowflake lace,
Our mountain waits for springtime,
Waits for her bridegroom's smile,
When he'll give her bright wildflowers,
and warm her every mile.
We, peeping from our cabin,
See crocuses in bloom,
And know her lover, Summer,
Will melt the winter gloom.
she trembles with impatience,
And crickets can be heard,
The air is crisp, the sky ice blue,
We'll soon hear the bluebird.
The bluebird is her messenger.
Perhaps he'll come today,
And sing to her that Summer
Isn't very far away.
When Summer comes to her at last,
He spends three months or four,
But he's a rambling lover,
And can not linger more.
Golden tears fall from her trees,
For Summer days are gone,
Gray clouds o'ershadow the sky,
And she's steeped in snow at dawn.
We'll wait with our dear mountain,
and watch with her for spring,
When daffodills and warm sunshine
will cause her heart to sing.
Summer's hand will come again
and dry her dewdrop tears,
and she will learn to live like this
For a hundred thousand years.