A SOLDIER OF THE SNOIVS.

A SOLDIER OF THE SNOWS.

Y brave boy loves the winter-time ;
He loves the bright, wild days
When the strong sun shines, and the icy trees
With a host of bayonets blaze;
And the silver bullets drop left and right,
And the wind goes charging past
With the whirl of a thousand cuirassiers

And the sound of a trumpet-blast !

From a veteran tree, all.scarred and gray,
He has wrested a steely bough;

He has captured the enemy’s colors gay,—
In his face he bears them now!

He bears them in his merry face,
That’s like the bold red rose;

And henceforth he shall ever be
My Soldier of the Snows!

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