The moon is the lamp he paints by, - Selected "SOME JACK FROST. OME one has been in the garden, All the green leaves are withered; Now, who do you think has been there › "Some one has been in the forest, Cracking the chestnut burrs; Who is it dropping the chestnuts, Whenever a light wind stirs ? "Some one has been on the hilltop, "Some one has been at the windows, "Some one is all the time working Out on the pond so blue, Bridging it over with crystal; Who is it, now? Can you tell who? "While his good bridge he is building, We will keep guard at the gate; And when he has it all finished, Hurrah for the boys that can skate! "Let him work on: we are ready; Three cheers for the bridge he is making! - Selected FROST PICTURES. on the window, Painted by Jack Frost, PICTURES Coming at the midnight, There a rapid river, And a waterfall. Here a branch of coral From the briny sea; There a weary traveler Resting 'neath a tree; Floating slowly on; There a mighty forest Of the torrid zone. Here a swamp, all tangled, - Then a breath, the lightest Jack Frost catches quickly, And thus you are painting, But your little pictures Will not pass away Like those Jack Frost's fingers Each kind word or action Every duty mastered Is lovely in the light; Then be very careful, Trace your window o'er; Made by kindness bright, Paint your glass with pictures Of the true and right. Selecteu THE FROST. HE Frost looked forth one still, clear night, THE And whispered, "Now I shall be out of sight' So through the valley and over the height, In silence I'll take my way; I will not go on like that blustering train, Then he flew to the mountain, and powdered its crest; Of the quivering lake he spread A coat of mail, that it need not fear He went to the windows of those who slept, Most beautiful things; there were flowers and trees; But he did one thing that was hardly fair,- I'll bite this basket of fruit," said he, THE HE snowflakes fall so gently, They form a carpet, soft and white, While cheeks grow round and rosy, Some children are like snowflakes, - And when they walk from place to place, You ne'er can hear them go. Oh, let us be like snowflakes, So soft and pure and bright, And when God looks into our souls, He'll see a pleasing sight. -M. M. 1 |