Hannah Flagg Gould

The Frost looked forth one still, clear night, And he said, "Now I shall be out of sight; So through the valley and over the height In silence I'll take my way."

I am feeble, pale and weary, And my wings are nearly furled; I have caused a scene so dreary, I am glad to quit the world! With bitterness I'm thinking On the evil I have done,

Come out — pretty Rose-Bud, — my lone, timid one! Come forth from thy green leaves, and peep at the sun! For little he does, in these dull autumn hours, At height'ning of beauty, or laughing with flowers.

Wisdom, Power and Goodness meet In the bounteous field of wheat.

Alone I walked on the ocean strand, A pearly shell was in my hand; I stooped, and wrote upon the sand My name, the year, the day. As onward from the sport I passed, One lingering look behind I cast,