Frost-charmed in ancient ice a sorcerer pale
Shrinks stars and frondes to things of faery-kind.
Now in the night when cold has stilled the wind,
When the snow shines like moonlight in the dale,
His crystals clothe the pane with magic mail,
Or build a legend hoar with rime outlined;
The spoils of dreamland dwarfed to atomies:
Incrusted gems, star-glances overborne
With lids of sleep plucked from the moth’s bright eyes,
And forests dense of ferns blanched and forlorn,