In a pixy chariot, drawn,
Not by deer, but elfin fawn,
Thou hast come, Jack Frost and gone.
Silently, unheralded,
O'er the earth thy chariot sped;
Dear Jack Frost, where hast thou fled?
Thou the child's and poet's friend,
Brings't us blessings without end,
Joys the world can not transcend.
Naught but beauty now remains —
Flowers, ferns and fairy fanes,
Wrought upon the window panes;
Fields and forests all aglow,—
Colors only thou dost know:
How the heart doth overflow!
Purple clusters thine and mine,
Winter-wild and muscadine,
Bursting with the wine of vine!
Haws, persimmons, berries red,
Nuts the earth have overspread —
Dear Jack Frost, why hast thou fled?
Old Chris we hail with all his boast,
His jolly fun and merry cost,
But oh, we love Jack Frost, Jack Frost!