Enforced pursuit of silver eagles fleet
Gave early haste to my reluctant feet,
And so it chanced I hurried—I and Care—
At sunrise down a city thoroughfare;
But by the grace of some directing fay
I met a sight that gladdened me all day.
I saw a beer-plump Saxon—Bacchus’ son—
His red, round face the symbol of slow fun;
Unconscious he of all ’twixt sky and earth
Except one soul-engrossing cause of mirth:
He dragged a painted sled, and, perched thereon,
Sat snug a three-years’ maiden, bright as dawn,
And happy as the sparrows chirping round,
Crumb-hunting near her on the snowy ground.
A sudden turn! a laughing cry, and lo!
The sled upsets, and Mädchen prints the snow.
She laughs; I laugh; loud ha-ha’s Bacchus’ son;—
Then gravely he,—“By yolly! dot vas fun.”