« The Frost looked out one still, clear night, 
And whispered, “ Now I shall be out of sight : 
So through the valley, and over the height, 
In silence I’ll take my way ; 
I will not go on like that blustering train. 
The wind and the snow, the hail and the rain, 
Who make so much bustle and noise in vain ; 
But I’ll be as busy as they.” 
Then he flew to the mountain and powdered its crest ; 
He lit on the trees, and their boughs he drest 
In diamond beads ; and over the breast 
Of the quivering lake he spread 
A coat of mail, that it need not fear 
The downward point of many a spear, 
That he hung on its margin far and near, 
Where a rock could rear its head. 
He went to the windows of those who slept, 
And over each pane like a fairy he crept; 
Wherever he breathed, wherever he stepped, 
By the light of the moon were seen 
Most beautiful things, — there were flowers and trees ; 
There were bevies of birds and swarms of bees ; 
There were cities with temples and towers ; 
And these all pictured in silver sheen ! 
But he did one thing that was hardly fair, — 
He peeped in the cupboard, and finding there 
That all had forgotten for him to prepare, 
“ Now just to set them a-thinking. 
I’ll bite this basket of fruit,” said he, 
“ This bloated pitcher I’ll burst in three ; 
And the glass of water they’ve left for me, 
Shall tchick to tell them I’m drinking.” 
Miss Gould. 
