Poem by Charles George Douglas Roberts

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.

1. The Potato Harvest
2. The Aim
3. The Autumn Thistles
4. At the Gates of Spring
5. An April Adoration

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