Fairy Tale

Now this is the story of

Who ages and ages

Lived right on the top of a mountain,

A mountain all covered with snow.

And he was quite pretty and

With beautiful curling fair

And small hands like delicate flowers—Cheeks kissed by the cold mountain air.

He lived in a hut made of

Just one little room and a doorA table, a chair, and a

And animal skins on the floor.

Now Olaf was partly

And so never wanted to eat;

He thought dewdrops and raindrops were

And snowflakes and all perfumes sweet.

In the daytime when sweeping and

And cleaning were quite at an end,

He would sit very still on the

And dream—O, that he had a friend!

Somebody to come when he called them,

Somebody to catch by the hand,

Somebody to sleep with at night time,

Somebody who'd quite understand.

One night in the middle of

He lay wide awake on his bed,

Outside there was fury of

And calling of wolves to be fed—Thin wolves, grey and silent as shadows;

And Olaf was frightened to death.

He had peeped through a crack in the doorpost,

He had seen the white smoke of their breath.

But suddenly over the storm

He heard a small voice

Cry, "I am a snow fairy,

Olaf,

Unfasten the window for me."So he did, and there flew through the

The daintiest, prettiest

Her face and her dress and her stockings,

Her hands and her curls were all white.

And she said, "O you poor little

Before I am melted, you know,

I have brought you a valuable present,

A little brown fiddle and bow.

So now you can never be lonely,

With a fiddle, you see, for a friend,

But all through the Summer and

Play beautiful songs without end."And then,—O she melted like water,

But Olaf was happy at last;

The fiddle he tucked in his shoulder,

He held his small bow very fast.

So perhaps on the quietest of

If you listen, you may hear him soon,

The child who is playing the

Away up in the cold, lonely moon.