I've been searching the internet for a poem. I saw it on the subway, on one of those "keep the commuter occupied and happy" posters. I enjoy those...sometimes they're word or mind games, sometimes they're just something to ponder. In any case they're better than more ads for Survivor and The Apprentice.

This one was a short poem by Ethelwyn Wetherald...I think the title had to do with theft or stealth. It personifies frost as a stealthy thief, stealing life from the landscape. I can't find that one, but here's another of hers.

February by Ethelwyn Wetherald

O Master-Builder, blustering as you go
About your giant work, transforming all
The empty woods into a glittering hall,
And making lilac lanes and footpaths grow
As hard as iron under stubborn snow,
Though every fence stand forth a marble wall,
And windy hollows drift to arches tall,
There comes a might that shall your might o'erthrow.
Build high your white and dazzling palaces,
Strengthen your bridges, fortify your towers,
Storm with a loud and a portentous lip;
And April with a fragmentary breeze,
And half a score of gentle, golden hours,
Shall leave no trace of your stern workmanship.

The only collection of Wetherald's work that I can find is a century out of print. Maybe someone needs to research and gather and publish her oeuvre...

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