The Frosted Pane
One night came Winter noiselessly, and leaned
Against my window-pane.
In the deep stillness of his heart convened
The ghosts of all his slain.
Leaves, and ephemera, and stars of earth,
And fugitives of grass,—
White spirits loosed from bonds of mortal birth,
He drew them on the glass.
~~
Charles G.D. Roberts (1860-1943)
from The Book of the Native, 1896
[Poem is in the public domain in Canada, the United States, and the European Union]
Charles G.D. Roberts biography
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