Saw its white peaks in August from their door. One little maiden, in that cottage-home, Dwelt with her parents, light of heart and limb, Bright, restless, thoughtless, flitting here and there, Like sunshine on the uneasy ocean-waves, And sometimes she forgot what she was bid, As Alice does. _Alice._--Or Willy, quite as oft. _Uncle John._--But you are older, Alice, two good years, And should be wiser. Eva was the name Of this young maiden, now twelve summers old. Now you must know that, in those early times, When autumn days grew pale, there came a troop Of childlike forms from that cold mountain-top; With trailing garments through the air they came, Or walked the ground with girded loins, and threw Spangles of silvery frost upon the grass, And edged the brooks with glistening parapets, And built it crystal bridges, touched the pool, And turned its face to glass, or, rising thence, They shook from their full laps the soft, light snow, And buried the great earth, as autumn winds Bury the forest-floor in heaps of leaves. A beautiful race were they, with baby brows, And fair, bright locks, and voices like the sound Of steps on the crisp snow, in which they talked With man, as friend with friend. A merry sight It was, when, crowding round the traveller, They smote him with their heaviest snow-flakes, flung Needles of frost in handfuls at his cheeks, And, of the light wreaths of his smoking breath, Wove a white fringe for his brown beard, and laughed Their slender laugh to see him wink and grin And make grim faces as he floundered on. But, when the spring came on, what terror reigned Among these Little People of the Snow! To them the sun's warm beams were shafts of fire, And the soft south-wind was the wind of death. Away they flew, all with a pretty scowl Upon their childish faces, to the north, Or scampered upward to the mountain's top, And there defied their enemy, the Spring; Skipping and dancing on the frozen peaks, And moulding little snow-balls in their palms, And rolling them, to crush her flowers below, Down the steep snow-fields. _Alice._--That, too, must have been A merry sight to look at. _Uncle John._--You are right, But I must speak of graver matters now. Midwinter was the time, and Eva stood, Within the cottage, all prepared to dare The outer cold, with ample furry robe Close-belted round her waist, and boots of fur, And a broad kerchief, which her mother's hand Had closely drawn about her ruddy cheek. "Now, stay not long abroad," said the good dame, "For sharp is the outer air, and, mark me well, Go not upon the snow beyond the spot Where the great linden bounds the neighboring field." The little maiden promised, and went forth, And climbed the rounded snow-swells firm with frost Beneath her feet, and slid, with balancing arms, Into the hollows. Once, as up a drift