First frost
A creeping cold we're to behold,
Coaxes kingdoms into its fold,
A cruel crusader from the north,
Seems ever to make its way forth,
While Jack Frost's coming is fabled,
One woes over what it'll herald,
Early is already too late,
The warmth of day is made to wait,
Bitter from loss seasons before,
Now readying to wage a war,
With the change brought by the first frost,
The charms of autumn soon are lost,
It seems winter's march shall not cease,
The chill in the air shan't decrease,
Ground is covered with crystal dew,
That's lost when the day's sunlight grew.
poem by Christian Lacdael
Added by Poetry Lover
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