Bitter cold and a white hoar frost that has stayed all day. Jack Frost, the frost sprite of folk legend, was here last night, painting leaves on glass and showering diamonds of ice onto grass stems and bare branches.
This poem, written in a more innocent age, is one that I remember from childhood.
Look out! Look out! Jack Frost is About.
Look out! Look out!
Jack Frost is about!
He`s after our fingers and toes;
And, all through the night,
The innocent sprite
Is working where nobody knows.
He`ll climb each tree,
So nimble is he,
His silvery powder he`ll shake;
To windows he`ll creep,
And while we`re asleep,
Such wonderful pictures he`ll make.
Among the grass
He`ll merrily pass,
And change all its greenness to white;
Then home he will go,
And laugh "Ho! Ho! Ho!
What fun I have had in the night!"
by Cicely E. Pike
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