If winter were a person, what kind of person would he / she be?

If snow, ice, wind and frost were people, what kind of people would they be?

This poem can be acted as a little play.

Wind:   

I come from the cold and stormy North,

With a rush and a roar I hurry forth,

I toss from the trees the dead leaves down,

The withered leaves all sere and brown,

And sway the branches to and fro

As on my way I whirling go.

At crack and crevice I slip in,

And make a lively sounding din.

Swift I come and swift away,

With you I can no longer stay,

For I am wanted elsewhere now,

And so goodbye, I make my bow.

 

Frost:

Hand in hand we ever go

Through the season to and fro.

I breathe upon the streams. They cease

Their murmurings and are at peace.

Upon each window pane I trace

The finest filmy glistening lace.

Each boy and girl, 'tis plain to see,

Hath still a welcome kind for me.

For on the lake they whirl and wheel,

You hear the click of polished steel

As swift upon their skates they fly

With joyous heart and flashing eye.

My breath blows cold. Health, joy, delight,

Follow my silvery sparkles bright.

Now Snow, who is my guardian sweet,

Will all my young friends fondly greet.

 

Snow:

Over the earth so bare and brown

I spread a robe as soft as down.

Drifting, drifting down through space,

Hiding each unsightly place,

Touched to shimmering radiance bright,

In the moonbeam's mellow light,

By my brother Frost, for we

Both go hand in hand, you see.

North Wind goes gaily with us both,

To help us he is nothing loath.

And he and Frost and Rain combine

To give what in the clear sunshine

Shimmers sparkling—pure and nice,

Transparent, white, and glistening Ice.

 

Ice:

I cling to lofty gables, I rustle 'mid the snow,

I weave a gleaming covering

For lakes and streams. They know

That all must cease their murmuring

When Frost and I appear,

For we will hold them firm and fast

As long as we are here.

Gleaming, glistening, sparkling,

Yet pure and clear and bright.

You'll find me 'neath a silver moon,

Each crisp, fresh winter night.

 

(Enter Old Winter)

 

Winter:

What, ho! my children, here I am,

I've sought you everywhere.

And now to busy work away,

For you must all prepare

To do your duty while I hold

In check your enemy,

The great round sun, whose rays with you.

My children, disagree.

Now up, away! Wind, to the west

And come again in glee;

And join with Frost and Snow and Ice,

In one grand jubilee.

And paint the cheeks with roses

Of all these children who,

Right joyously will run and shout,

My children dear, with you.

Away! to work, you must not shirk

Your duties, dears; and now,

To these, your firmest friends, make each

Your most engaging bow.