_The Frost Fairy_

All day the trees were moaning, For the leaves that they had lost. All day they creaked and trembled, And the naked branches tossed, And shivered in the north wind, As he hurried up and down, Over hill-tops, bleak and cheerless, Over meadows, bare, and brown.

"Oh, my green and tender leaflets. Oh, my fair buds, lost, and gone!" So they moaned through all the daytime, So, they groaned, till night came on. And the hoar-frost lurked, and listened, To the wailing, sad refrain. And he whispered, "Wait--be patient-- I will cover you again.

"I will clothe you in new garments: I will deck you, ere the light, In a sheen of spotless glory, In a robe of purest white. You shall wear the matchless mantle, That the good frost-fairy weaves." And the bare trees listened, wondered-- And forgot their fallen leaves.

And the quaint and silent fairy, Backward, forward, through the gloom, Wove the matchless, glittering mantle; Spun the frost-thread, on her loom. And the bare trees talked together-- Talked in whispers, soft, and low, As the good and patient fairy Moved her shuttle to and fro.

And lo! when the sudden glory Of the morning crept abroad, All the trees were clothed in grandeur; All the twiglets robed and shod In the glittering, spotless garments, That the sunshine decked with gems; And the trees forgot their sorrow, 'Neath their robes and diadems.

1870.