Where does the Winter stay?
With the little Eskimo,
Where the frost and snow-flake grow?
Or where the white bergs first come out,
Where icicles make haste to sprout,
Where the winds and storms begin,
Gathering the crops all in,
Among the ice-fields, far away?
Where does the Summer stay?
In distant sunny places,
‘Midst palms and dusky faces,
Where they spin the cocoa thread,
Where the generous trees drop bread,
Where the lemon-groves give alms,
And Nature works her daily charms,
Among the rice-fields, far away?