Old Man Winter

There is nothing at all to do to-day.     I can't go out and run and play;     For it's raining and snowing and sleeting, too;     And Old Man Winter he is to blame.     And I just sit here and think it a shame.     There is nothing at all to do.     I stand or sit at the windowpane,     And look at the snow and look at the rain,     And the old dead leaves go flying by;     For Wild Man Wind is making a din;     And mother says that it is a sin:     And I'm almost ready to cry.     I can't go out in the wind and wet,     And it's a long time yet till the table's set,     And we are ready for toast and tea:     It's a long time too till the lamp is lit,     And my father's home and I can sit,     And he can read to me.     And I can not play or do a thing;     And there's no one coming visiting,     For it's storming more and more:     But now and then there's a rat-tat-tat,     And I ask my mother what is that,     And she says, "The wind at the door."     And she says, "Now what can the Old Wind want     A-knocking there with his knuckles gaunt?     You can hear his old hat dripping rain,     And his ragged cloak that flaps and slaps.     Why, I guess he's looking for little chaps,     To give them a cold again.     "You can see him there by the water-spout     With Old Man Rain just flapping about,     His long sharp nose an icicle,     And his fingers too; and his old, wild eyes     Small and gray as the winter skies,     Or ice in a winter well."     And then she comes to my side and sits     And says, "Just listen how he hits!     But he can't get in and you can't get out:     And by and by he'll be out of breath,     And grumble and growl himself to death,     Or leave with a mighty shout."     Right then there comes a step on the stair,     And I run to see; and my father's there;     With snow and rain on his coat and hat.     Now Old Man Winter can break his cane,     Can crack his cane on the windowpane     I don't care a rap for that.     For my father's home! "It's a wild old night.     The Wind and the Snow are having a fight,"     He says, "and are mauling each other around:     First Old Man Snow rips out a curse;     Then Wild Man Wind says something worse;     Then both are on the ground.     "And Old Man Snow is underneath,     And he snarls like a wolf and shows his teeth,     While Wild Man Wind just hits and hits:     Then round they wrestle; and Old Snow reels,     His long wild whiskers around his heels,     And his gray cloak torn in bits.     "And before you know it he's up with a bound,     And it's Wild Man Wind that hits the ground,     And Old Man Snow holds down his arm:     You can see them there by the window-light,     Wrangling, wrestling out in the night,     Out in the night and storm."     Then I look and see how the wind and snow     Just fight it out and thrash and blow;     Their windy rags through the ghostly black     Go whistling past the windowpane:     Then I run to the fire and lamp again,     And reach a book from the rack.     The lamp is lit, and my father's knee     And the fairy tales are ready for me:     And I sit, and he holds me by the hand:     Now Wild Man Wind and Old Man Snow     Can do their worst and bluster and blow,     I am far in Fairyland.