by Clara R. Bete
Winter time has come again.
Jack Frost, on the windowpane,
With the greatest care will trace
Patterns finer than old lace;
Fairies, flowers, and ferns he'll etch,
Or perhaps will make a sketch
Of a castle with a wall,
Or a maiden straight and tall.
O Jack Frost, it seems to me
Kind and skillful you must be-
You draw things that give delight,
And do it all in just one night!












