From pastures dry and brown,
Goes floating, like an idle thought,
The fair white thistle-down.
Mary Howitt.
6. A day of Winter beauty. Through the night
The hoar-frost gather'd o'er each leaf and spray,
Weaving its filmy net-work, thin and bright,
And shimmering like silver in the ray
Of the soft sunny morning;—turf and tree
Prank'd in delicate embroidery,