He comes, - he comes, - the Frost Spirit comes
You may trace his footsteps now On the naked woods and the blasted fields And the brown hill's withered brow
He has smitten the leaves of the gray old trees Where their pleasant green came f...
The Frost performs its secret ministry,
Unhelped by any wind.
The owlet's
Came loud--and hark, again! loud as before.
When the frost is on the punkin and the fodder's in the shock, And you hear the kyouck and gobble of the struttin' turkey-cock, And the clackin' of the guineys, and the cluckin' of the hens, And the rooster's hallylooyer as he tiptoes on the fence...