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Oh, how good the snapping and the crackle
Of the frost that daily grows more keen
Laden with its dazzling icy roses
The white flaming bush is forced to lean
The white flaming bush is forced to lean
On the snows in all their pomp and splendor
There are ski tracks and it seems that they
Are a token of those distant ages
When we two, together, passed this way
When we two, together, passed this way
