Then, come, little gem, from thy covert look out;
And see what the glad, golden sun is about!
His shafts, do they strike thee, new charms will impart,
Thy form making fairer, and richer, thy heart.

Occasion, sweet Bud, is for thee and for me:
This hour it may give what again ne'er shall be.
O, let not the sunshine of life pass away,
Nor touch both our eye and our heart with its ray!




=Frost, the Winter-Sprite=

The Frost looked forth on a still, clear night,
And whispered, "Now I shall be out of sight;
So through the valley, and over the height
I'll silently take my way.
I will not go on like that blustering train,
The wind and the snow, the hail and the rain,
That make so much bustle and noise in vain.
But I'll be as busy as they!"

He flew up, and powdered the mountain's crest;
He lit on the trees, and their boughs he drest
With diamonds and pearls;--and over the breast
Of the quivering Lake he spread
A bright coat of mail that it need not fear
The glittering point of many a spear