The summer days were almost gone, October loomed ahead. The Lord of Heaven's workshop Looked up one day and said, "Go find my roguish artist, That vagabond, Jack Frost; Tell him to bring his paint pots, Nor must he count the cost. I want him to go quickly down And paint for all he's worth; To see how gay and brilliant He can make my dusty earth." 'Twas soon arranged; off he went, His brushes in his hand. He spread his paints so lavishly O'er the hot, dusty land, So that everyone who fared forth In the bright autumn weather, Felt his own soul expand and swell As light as a feather. Said one, "I think each year I live, This world lovelier grows; I love the tang that's in the woods, Its source nobody knows. I love all the vivid colors Jack Frost puts on the trees; Such mingling of bright hues and shades, One seldom elsewhere sees." The Lord of Heaven's workshop Looked on Jack's work and smiled; He said, "Come home and rest awhile, Your work's well done, my child." | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...ON THE DEATH OF MR. CRASHAW by ABRAHAM COWLEY SING-SONG; A NURSERY RHYME BOOK: 20 by CHRISTINA GEORGINA ROSSETTI LINES WRITTEN ON HEARING THE NEWS OF THE DEATH OF NAPOLEON by PERCY BYSSHE SHELLEY JOHN UNDERHILL by JOHN GREENLEAF WHITTIER ECLOGUE: FATHER COME HWOME by WILLIAM BARNES NEW YEAR'S EVE by MATHILDE BLIND ZOPHIEL; OR THE BRIDE OF SEVEN: CANTO 6. BRIDAL OF HELEN by MARIA GOWEN BROOKS SONNETS FROM THE PORTUGUESE: 25 by ELIZABETH BARRETT BROWNING |