Summer fading, winter comes-- 
Frosty mornings, tingling thumbs, 
Window robins, winter rooks, 
And the picture story-books. 

Water now is turned to stone 
Nurse and I can walk upon; 
Still we find the flowing brooks 
In the picture story-books. 

All the pretty things put by, 
Wait upon the children's eye, 
Sheep and shepherds, trees and crooks, 
In the picture story-books. 

We may see how all things are 
Seas and cities, near and far, 
And the flying fairies' looks, 
In the picture story-books. 

How am I to sing your praise, 
Happy chimney-corner days, 
Sitting safe in nursery nooks, 
Reading picture story-books?