THE FROST 
  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     I'll silently take my way.
  I will not go on like that blustering train,   The wind and the snow, the hail and the rain,   That make so much bustle and noise in vain,     But I'll be as busy as they!"
  He flew up, and powdered the mountain's crest;   He lit on the trees, and their boughs he dressed   With diamonds and pearls; and over the breast     Of the quivering lake he spread   A bright coat of mail, that it need not fear   The glittering point of many a spear   That he hung on its margin, far and near,     Where a rock was rearing its head.
  He went to the windows of those who slept,   And over each pane, like a fairy crept;   Wherever he breathed wherever he stepped 
    Most beautiful things were seen   By morning's first light! There were flowers and trees,   With bevies of birds and swarms of bright bees;   There were cities temples, and towers; and these,     All pictured in silvery sheen!
  But one thing he did that was hardly fair 
  He peeped in the cupboard, and finding there   That none had remembered for him to prepare,     "Now, just to set them a-thinking,   I'll bite their rich basket of fruit," said he,      "This burly old pitcher I'll burst it in three!
  And the glass with the water they've left for me     Shall 'tchick!' to tell them I'm drinking!"
HANNAH FLAGG GOULD