The yellow bricks across the way
Look cheerful 'neath the buried roof.
The daily din is muffled now.
The street beneath's unstruck by hoof.
All motions through the path are cheered
By waving arms and boisterous cries.
All breathing's seen, all wonder felt,
All memories prompting tender sighs.
And look! Within the snow-filled scene
Approaches now a motley crew,
The urchins Holmes sometimes employs,
Now making old-time carols new.
They stop to sing before our place.
I call at once toward Holmes's room
That he might see and hear this group.
I hope he's not in some deep gloom.
But then above the off-key sounds
A touching descant part joins in.
I look below surprised to see
That Holmes is playing violin!