Click in the field, then press CTRL+C to copy the HTML code
Jack Frost
Silver Jack Frost glistens,
Like snow on a mountain top,
His chilly white icicles shimmer,
As they take over the grass stems,
As silver as the moon,
Coming out to play.
Mists hang,
Over the hills and valley,
Until we are left with low cloud,
Over ruling us,
Like the king of Egypt.
Midday is nearing,
Mr Jack Frost is disappearing.
poem
by
Jess Sinnamon
solid border
dashed border
dotted border
double border
groove border
ridge border
inset border
outset border
no border
blue
green
red
purple
cyan
gold
silver
black