: Keep-well Stories For Little Folks
A mischief-maker is old Jack Frost,
His pranks are many indeed;
He comes and goes with the speed of the wind,
But who has ever seen his steed?
He comes when the nights are clear and cold,
And the wind has gone to rest,
He comes with his magic wand,
And few things stand the test.
e rides o'er fields of waving corn,
And leaves them sere and dry;
He touches the flowers with his magic wand,
And they wither away and die.
He spreads on the walk a coat of ice,
That unwary feet may slip;
He freezes the leaves, the trees and grass,
And holds them all in his icy grip.
He pinches the apple's ruddy cheeks,
And the children's cheeks as well--
Oh, of all the mischief that Jack Frost does,
Who could ever tell?
But still we love this mischief-maker,
We could not do without him;
We think his little plays and pranks
The very best thing about him.