The Moon'S A Snowball. See The Drifts Of White That Cross The Sphere. The Moon'S A Snowball, Melted Down A Dozen Times A Year. Yet Rolled Again In Hot July When All My Days Are Done And Cool To Greet The Weary Eye After The Scorching Sun. The Moon'S A Piece Of Winter Fair Renewed The Year Around, Behold It, Deathless And Unstained, Above The Grimy Ground! It Rolls On High So Brave And White Where The Clear Air-Rivers Flow, Proclaiming Christmas All The Time And The Glory Of The Snow!