THE FROST.
The Frost looked forth 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;