FR OST-SMITTEN. 1 1 7
All friends who vowed remembrance,
And straightway then forgot ; All surly souls who envy
The sunbeams in my lot ;
All Pharisees and hard folks,
Who count a smile a sin ; All eyes which motes discover,
Yet bear a beam within ;
Good folks who only blunder,
Yet step on fraying strings, Nor fear with hand unshrinking
To touch one s holy things.
Thus is my good ship freighted.
Does anybody know Of any ugly people
They think had better go ?
��FROST-SMITTEN.
SNOW-WHITE and cold lay the frost in the gar den,
Glittering brightly, but bitterly chill ; Snow-white and cold that morn in September, The ghost of the summer-time slept on the hill.
The four-o clock shuddered and folded her petals, The meek mignonette bent her head;
While pale yellow leaves from the maple-tree falling Seemed soft silent tears for the summer-time dead.
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