Occasion, sweet Bud, is for thee and for me:
This hour it may give what again ne'er shall be.
O, let not the sunshine of life pass away,
Nor touch both our eye and our heart with its ray!
Frost, the Winter-Sprite
The Frost looked forth on a still, clear night,
And whispered, "Now I shall be out of sight;
So through the valley, and over the height