Autumn Frost

The morning sun shows like a

Of fire through smoke on frosty days.

As on a faulty snap, it

Make out my features in the haze.

The distant trees will hardly see

Until the sun at last can

Out of the fog, and flash

Upon the meadows by the lake.

A passer-by in mist

Is recognized when he has passed.

You walk on hoarfrost-covered

As though on mats of plaited bast.

The frost is covered up in gooseflesh,

The air is false like painted cheeks,

The earth is shivering, and sick

Breathing potato-stalks for weeks.