  In a pixy chariot, drawn, Not by deer, but elfin fawn, Thou hast come, Jack Frost and gone. Silently, unheralded, O'er the earth thy chariot sped; Dear Jack Frost, where hast thou fled? Thou the child's and poet's friend, Brings't us blessings without end, Joys the world can not transcend. Naught but beauty now remains— Flowers, ferns and fairy fanes, Wrought upon the window panes; Fields and forests all aglow,— Colors only thou dost know: How the heart doth overflow! Purple clusters thine and mine, Winter-wild and muscadine, Bursting with the wine of vine! Haws, persimmons, berries red, Nuts the earth have overspread— Dear Jack Frost, why hast thou fled? Old Chris we hail with all his boast, His jolly fun and merry cost, But oh, we love Jack Frost, Jack Frost! |
|
