One night came Winter noiselessly, and leaned <br /> Against my window-pane. <br /> In the deep stillness of his heart convened <br /> The ghosts of all his slain. <br /> Leaves, and ephemera, and stars of earth, <br /> And fugitives of grass, -- <br /> White spirits loosed from bonds of mortal birth, <br /> He drew them on the glass.<br /><br />Sir Charles George Douglas Roberts<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/the-frosted-pane/
