The Frost On The Window

Feathery frost on the window-pane,     Who placed you there? "I cannot explain,"     Each little feather at once replied;     "But this I know, I'm the children's pride,     As they think I fell from an angel's wing,     And coming to earth must rich blessings bring.     "I once formed part of a lovely bay;     The sun shone out, and I turned to spray,     And rose aloft on the ambient air,     To the regions high where all is rare;     Then I mingled with my old friends again,     Who were my neighbors in the haunts of men.     "On the blustering wind, I rode along,     Sometimes hard tossed by the tempest strong,     And then at rest, as when in the bay,     Though much enlarged, the wise savants say;     Though I cannot tell you how long my sleep,     With a chill I woke and began to weep.     "And my ample form much smaller grew,     By the cold compressed to a drop of dew;     Then down I fell, swift as bounding deer,     And knew no more till I fell right here;     But how I became so like a feather     Is problem I can unravel never.     "But, oh, how the sun begins to burn!     I think I must to the clouds return.     Farewell, my boy! but you must not fret;     We meet again, as we now have met,     If not as a feather, perhaps a tree,     Or whatever the Wise One may make of me."