The Frost
The frost of night on heaven’s breast, The glittering world below, One soft moon’s picture, time’s caress— The stillness of the snow.
A silver dawn in dreamless rest, The air is like a dream, And ghostlier than the brightest jest, The hills are pale with gleam.
O quiet earth and starlit sea, Let this remain the same, And I will weave a world of thee, Where love might see its name.
- William Wilfred Campbell