The Frosted Pane by Evaleen Stein

      When I wakened, very early,
     All my window-pane was pearly
With a sparkling little picture traced in lines of shining white;
     Some magician with a gleaming
     Frosty brush, while I was dreaming,
Must have come and by the starlight worked through all the quiet night.

 
 He had painted frosty people,
     And a frosty church and steeple,
And a frosty bridge and river tumbling over frosty rocks;
     Frosty mountain peaks that glimmered,
     And fine frosty ferns that shimmered,
And a frosty little pasture full of frosty little flocks.

  
 It was all touched in so lightly
     And it glittered, oh, so whitely,
That I gazed and gazed in wonder at the lovely painted pane;
     Then the sun rose high and higher
     With his wand of golden fire
Till, alas, my picture vanished and I looked for it in vain!