 | Western windows and other poems |  |
145
FROST ON THE PANES.
Before my window standing
I see the dream-like glow
Of Frost against the dawning:
Old fancies come and go.
I see the dream-like glow
Of Frost against the dawning:
Old fancies come and go.
A little child is gazing,
With wonder-lighted eyes,
Before the white enchantment
That veils the morning skies.
With wonder-lighted eyes,
Before the white enchantment
That veils the morning skies.
His mother steals beside him:
The marvellous picture gleams—
The Fairy, Frost, has painted
His Fairy world of dreams!
The marvellous picture gleams—
The Fairy, Frost, has painted
His Fairy world of dreams!
Weird woodlands shine enchanted
With crystal boughs so bright,
Where ghouls alone have wander'd;
Strange castles haunt the hight.
With crystal boughs so bright,
Where ghouls alone have wander'd;
Strange castles haunt the hight.
146
Lo, while the child is gazing,
The white enchantment 's fled,
And I, alone, awaken,
And Fairyland is dead!
The white enchantment 's fled,
And I, alone, awaken,
And Fairyland is dead!
I look out through the window:
The market roars and beats,
With myriad wheels and footsteps
The crowded morning streets.
The market roars and beats,
With myriad wheels and footsteps
The crowded morning streets.
Tears stand upon the window,
For the frost-work's fragile gleam,
And on my cheek are tear-drops,
Old relics of my dream.
For the frost-work's fragile gleam,
And on my cheek are tear-drops,
Old relics of my dream.
Tears shine upon the window,
Where the frost-work flash'd before:
Ah, in Time's Eastern windows
Are frosted panes no more!
Where the frost-work flash'd before:
Ah, in Time's Eastern windows
Are frosted panes no more!
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