RABBIT'S CREAM. 



Everyone is well acquainted 

 With the arts of Frosty Jack — 



With his etchings on the windows, 

 W^ith the tints that mark his track; 



But the quaint and merry artist 

 Has a fanc}' of his own 



That is delicate and graceful, 



But is not so widely known. 



When no green is in the forest, 



And no bloom is in the dell, 

 Not a flower star to twinkle. 



Not the smallest blossom-bell, — 

 Here and there, an herb he singles. 



Brown and dry, and round its stem 

 Fastens, with his magic fingers. 



One great, silver-shining gem; 



Shell-like, delicate and dainty. 



White and lucent as a pearl; 

 Just as though he took a fragment 



Of the mist, and with a twirl 

 Froze it into shape and substance — 



Such a fine and fragile thing, 

 That the fairy queen might crush it, 



If she brushed it with her wing. 



Then he steals away, delighted; 



He has planned a morning treat 

 For a troop who soon will flutter 



Through the wood, on dancing feet; 

 All the little country urchins 



Love to see its silver gleam — 

 Love to fancy it a dainty. 



And they call it "rabbit's cream." 



— Hattie Whitne\- 



