A Frosty Morn

Spring’s early blossoms
Are sleeping in their grave,
Oh! how the sun did shine,
For their lives it tried to save.

Just think of all their beauty
And Jack Frost was the winner,
Though in sight of the shining sun,
He’s an awful sinner.

And while they lie asleep
Beneath the chilly snow,
We only dream of their tenderness
And their fragrance we love so.

Just think of each little petal
That was veiled with that all white shroud,
And the miserable death they died,
While the sun was behind the clouds.

But cheer up! all sad hearts,
Mother nature is soon to bring
Another collection of buds,
For the ones stolen this spring.