The Sleighing Party

Where snow-laden winds are blowing,

Where ice-fettered streams are flowing,

Where the stall-fed cows are lowing,

            I would go;

I would go—go back a-seeking,

Where the hard-packed snow is creaking,

Where the laden bobs are squeaking

            O’er the snow.

I would hear the sleigh-bells jingle,

I would feel my fingers tingle,

I’d climb in the sleigh and mingle

            With the girls;

I would hear the jingle-jangle

Mixed with youthful laugh and wrangle,

I would feel my heart a-tangle

            In gold curls.

We would snuggle down and cuddle

Midst the robes and straw, and huddle

In a happy mixed-up muddle

            In the sleigh;

While the horses’ hoofs were pounding,

While the snowdrifts we were rounding,

While the glad sleigh-bells were sounding,

            Far away.

I would taste the long gone blisses

Of the surreptitious kisses—

Oh, the red lips of the misses,

            And cold nose!

I would feel the old elation

When we reached our destination,

Join in many a swift gyration

            In the snows.

There’d be mugs of foaming cider,

There’d be no one there to chide, or

Chaperone, and woe betide her

            Who hung back

From the gust of joy and pleasure,

From the foamed o’er-brimming measure,

From the doughnuts, each a treasure,

            In a stack.

I would see the farm boys standing

All a-grin and shyly banding

In a corner and “Good landing!”

            At the rout;

There’d be kissing in each frolic,

There’d be games and joys bucolic,

And we’d laugh and dance and rollick,

            And would shout.

Then we’d stream from opened portals,

Such a happy stream of mortals;

Full of quips and tricks and chortles,

            Glad and gay!

With hand-shakings and good-byeing,

Objurgations and replying,

Come agains—then homeward flying

            In the sleigh.

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