Papa forked sweet-smelling hay in the sled,
Then in their stout harness our horses he led,
Soon hitched securely, they stomped in
the snow.
"Come on," called Papa, "A-sledding
we'll go."
Hatted and coated and booted and muffed,
We clambered in wildly, the hay was
all roughed.
With blankets and lap robes we all tried
our best
To make for ourselves a warm little nest.
Away! Now the sled was all rapture
and noise,
Filled with five giggly girls and five
wiggly boys,
Slipping so smoothly along in the snow ---
Over the white countryside we did go.
Over a hill, down a clean, frosty road,
The horses seemed happy to carry their load.
The songs that we sang and the stories
we told
Echoed in air that was still from the cold.
Now joyous and free to adventuring go,
We have a father to guide us above the
deep snow,
And know, that no matter how far we
may roam,
He will take us all safely and
happily home.
~ Marian Fulton Daggett
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