SubTitle("caps", "Part II") ?>
DisplayImage("text", "zpage037", "
", "
", "center", "70", "5", "5", "[Illustration]") ?>
SubTitle("caps", "The Little Child") ?>
StoryTitle("caps", "The Frost") ?>
Frost," by Hannah Flagg Gould (1789-1865), is perhaps a hundred years
old, but he is the same rollicking fellow to-day as of yore. The poem puts
his merry pranks to the front and prepares the way for science to give him
a true analysis.
PoemStart() ?>
PoemLine("L0", "", "The Frost looked forth, one still, clear night,", "") ?>
PoemLine("L0", "", "And whispered, \"Now I shall be out of sight;", "") ?>
PoemLine("L0", "", "So through the valley and over the height,", "") ?>
PoemLine("L2", "", "In silence I'll take my way:", "") ?>
PoemLine("L0", "", "I will not go on with that blustering train,", "") ?>
PoemLine("L0", "", "The wind and the snow, the hail and the rain,", "") ?>
PoemLine("L0", "", "Who make so much bustle and noise in vain,", "") ?>
PoemLine("L2", "", "But I'll be as busy as they.\"", "") ?>
PoemLine("L0", "", "Then he flew to the mountain and powdered its crest;", "") ?>
PoemLine("L0", "", "He lit on the trees, and their boughs he dressed", "") ?>
PoemLine("L0", "", "In diamond beads—and over the breast", "") ?>
PoemLine("L2", "", "Of the quivering lake he spread", "") ?>
PoemLine("L0", "", "A coat of mail, that it need not fear", "") ?>
PoemLine("L0", "", "The downward point of many a spear", "") ?>
PoemLine("L0", "", "That hung on its margin far and near,", "") ?>
PoemLine("L2", "", "Where a rock could rear its head.", "") ?>
PoemLine("L0", "", "He went to the windows of those who slept,", "") ?>
PoemLine("L0", "", "And over each pane, like a fairy, crept;", "") ?>
PoemLine("L0", "", "Wherever he breathed, wherever he slept,", "") ?>
PoemLine("L2", "", "By the light of the moon were seen", "") ?>
PagePoem(40, "L0", "") ?>
PoemLine("L0", "", "Most beautiful things—there were flowers and trees;", "") ?>
PoemLine("L0", "", "There were bevies of birds and swarms of bees;", "") ?>
PoemLine("L0", "", "There were cities with temples and towers, and these", "") ?>
PoemLine("L2", "", "All pictured in silver sheen!", "") ?>
PoemLine("L0", "", "But he did one thing that was hardly fair;", "") ?>
PoemLine("L0", "", "He peeped in the cupboard, and finding there", "") ?>
PoemLine("L0", "", "That all had forgotten for him to prepare—", "") ?>
PoemLine("L2", "", "\"Now just to set them a-thinking,", "") ?>
PoemLine("L0", "", "I'll bite this basket of fruit,\" said he,", "") ?>
PoemLine("L0", "", "\"This costly pitcher I'll burst in three,", "") ?>
PoemLine("L0", "", "And the glass of water they've left for me", "") ?>
PoemLine("L2", "", "Shall 'tchich!' to tell them I'm drinking.\"", "") ?>
PoemAttribution("100", SmallCapsText("Hannah Flagg Gould.")) ?>
PoemEnd() ?>