1 46 STAR-BL O QMS.
��ING WINTER cold,
Ere he grew old, Repented him of murdered flowers, And everywhere, In earth and air, Sought for the children of the showers.
But lily pale
In sunny vale, Nor white anemone, saw he ;
No gentian blue,
Nor pansy true, Outlived his stern decree.
Will no one bring
The Winter King His wish ? Up spoke a winged wight,
And throneward crossed : I am Jack Frost, And I will bring you blossoms bright."
Above went he, And drove a shining coulter through,
Till all the cloud
Was crystal-ploughed, And snow-dust from the furrow flew.
Soft floating down On Winter s crown,