Classic Poem

Below me rings the lake,
The stars above me burn,
Away the skaters break,
And glide and wheel and turn;
Keen blows the cutting north,
Against the wind they drive,
And as they hurry forth,
The air is all alive.
Shout and carol, jest and boast,
So they sound along;
Send thy keenest arrows, Frost!
We will give thee song.

The east is growing bright,
The crystal forest flashes,
And in the dawning light,
Like gold the cascade dashes.
The rainbow spans the sky,
But all her proudest show,
Her deepest tinctures die
Before the pomp below.
Rock and river, tree and fountain,
Glitter thick with gems;
Rolling hill and craggy mountain
Glow like diadems.