Whilst Breezy Waves Toss Up Their Silvery

Gold! Gold! Gold! Gold! Bright And Yellow, Hard And Cold!

It Was A Childish Ignorance, But Now 'tis Little Joy To Know I'm Further Off From Heaven Than When I Was A Boy.

Oh Would I Were Dead Now, Or Up In My Bed Now, To Cover My Head Now, And Have A Good Cry!

I Love Thee - I Love Thee, 'tis All That I Can Say, It Is My Vision In The Night, My Dreaming In The Day.

Frost Is The Greatest Artist In Our Clime - He Paints In Nature And Describes In Rime.