"THERE was a frost Last night!" she said, "And the stove was forgot When we went to bed, And the greenhouse plants Are frozen dead!" By the breakfast blaze Blank-faced spoke she, Her scared young look Seeming to be The very symbol Of tragedy. The frost is fiercer Than then to-day, As I pass the place Of her once dismay, But the greenhouse stands Warm, tight, and gay, While she who grieved At the sad lot Of her pretty plants -- Cold, iced, forgot -- Herself is colder, And knows it not. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE OLD STOIC by EMILY JANE BRONTE TO A SNOWFLAKE by FRANCIS THOMPSON THE REFORMER by JOHN GREENLEAF WHITTIER YARROW UNVISITED by WILLIAM WORDSWORTH THE DESERTED LOVER CONSOLETH HIMSELF ... by THOMAS WYATT |