 | A merry-go-round of song |  |
113
THE LETTER
Last night Jack Frost began again
To scribble on my window-pane,
And left a message, which I read
On popping quickly out of bed.
To scribble on my window-pane,
And left a message, which I read
On popping quickly out of bed.
He means to manage for my sake
To breathe so hard upon the lake,
That very soon a splendid sheet
Of ice will bear our happy feet.
To breathe so hard upon the lake,
That very soon a splendid sheet
Of ice will bear our happy feet.
Of course it is extremely nice
To have a letter made of ice
From one who uses silver towns
Instead of adjectives and nouns.
To have a letter made of ice
From one who uses silver towns
Instead of adjectives and nouns.
He also writes in ferns and flowers,
In vases, ships, and fairy bowers;
But if he wrote in cats and birds
I'd read them just as well as words.
In vases, ships, and fairy bowers;
But if he wrote in cats and birds
I'd read them just as well as words.
For what he wants to say is, “Dick,
The ice is getting black and thick.
Don't let this lovely chance be lost,
Yours, till they melt me, Johnny Frost.”
The ice is getting black and thick.
Don't let this lovely chance be lost,
Yours, till they melt me, Johnny Frost.”
| A merry-go-round of song | |