Old Jack Frost

Last night we were kept awake.
Could n't sleep for Old Jack Frost;
Wandering round like some old ghost.
Gave the door an awful shake;
Knocked against my bed's brass post.
Last night we were kept awake.
Could n't sleep he made such noise;
Rapped and tapped and prowled around.
Once he made a snapping sound
Just like that of breaking toys.
You'd been scared, too, I'll be bound.
Could n't sleep he made such noise.
All was dark and very still,
When, right at the window, "bing,"
Came a rap that made me sing,
"Mother, I'm afraid!" until
Mother fussed like everything.
All was dark and very still.
"Old Jack Frost is raising Ned.
And to-morrow, wish to state,
We'll get even sure as fate;
Cure him of his tricks," she said;
"Start a fire in the grate.
Old Jack Frost is raising Ned."
Then I heard my father's voice:
"You just let Jack Frost alone.
He's good friends, you should have known,
With Old Santa. Little boys
Are not scared of him, my son."
Then I heard my father's voice.
So I went to sleep again:
Let him bang the furniture
All he cared to. I was sure
I'd get even; that was plain:
Old Man Fire would be his cure,
So I went to sleep again.
Once he rattled at my mug
Where was water: then he crept
Round the room and softly stept
Here and there upon the rug;
Felt his breath, but I just slept.
Once he rattled at my mug.
Well, you should have seen the things
That he painted on the panes
When 't was morning: towns and trains;
Flowers and fairies; ropes and rings;
Stars and ribboned weather-vanes.
Well, you should have seen the things!
I just shouted when I saw.
Called to father:"Just look here!
Old Jack Frost is such a dear!
Wish he'd show me how to draw.
I'd be good for one whole year."
I just shouted when I saw.

Madison Julius Cawein

Madison Julius Cawein was born on March 23, 1865, in Louisville, Kentucky and died on December 8, 1914. Known as the “Keats of Kentucky,” his poetry often focused on nature, mythology, and the lush landscapes of his home state. Throughout his lifetime, Cawein published more than 30 books of poetry. He is remembered for his vivid and descriptive style and his ability to capture the beauty of the natural world. His works provide a window into the pastoral and often mystical world of the late 19th and early 20th centuries.

Madison Julius Cawein

The Old Home

Madison Julius Cawein, Simple Poetry

Disillusion.

Madison Julius Cawein, Simple Poetry

Minions Of The Moon

Madison Julius Cawein, Simple Poetry

Falerina.

Madison Julius Cawein, Simple Poetry

English

Suggested Poems

Explore a curated selection of verses that share themes, styles, and emotional resonance with the poem you've just read.

The Pond

And I told the boy next door
What Jack Frost had done; and he
Said, "Ah shucks! that's nothing; see?
I have seen all that before.
You just come along with me;
I will show you something more."
And he took me to a lot
Where there was a shallow pool;
And this pool was frozen; full
Of the slickest ice. I got
On it, but he said, "You fool!
It will break. You'd better not."
And right then it broke. O my!
In I went above my knees.
Thought that I would surely freeze.
Old Jack Frost just caught me by
Both my legs; began to squeeze;
And then I began to cry.
I just helloed, and the boy
Helloed too; until a man,
With a dinner-pail or can,
Heard us, and cried out, "Ahoy!
What 've you run into?" Then ran
Till he got there, to our joy.

Madison Julius Cawein

Santa Claus

When my mother is n't here,
And I just won't go to bed,
And it's cold outside and near
Christmas; and the kitchen-shed
'S covered thick with frost and snow;
Then my nurse she says, "Oh! oh!
Better get to bed! My Laws!
Think I hear Old Santa Claus!"

Then I hurry; never kick,
Squirm or cry or anything:
But jump into bed right quick:
'Fraid to look around; and cling
Fast to nurse; and close my eyes
Tight: she looking just as wise!
Scared, too, don't you know? because
She fast heard Old Santa Claus.

Why in goodness I'm afraid
I don't know. For Santa's good,
So they say, and brings much aid
To all folks. It's understood
Specially to girls and boys,
Christmas-trees and cakes and toys;
But there must be some good cause
M...

Madison Julius Cawein

Old Man Winter

There is nothing at all to do to-day.
I can't go out and run and play;
For it's raining and snowing and sleeting, too;
And Old Man Winter he is to blame.
And I just sit here and think it a shame.
There is nothing at all to do.

I stand or sit at the windowpane,
And look at the snow and look at the rain,
And the old dead leaves go flying by;
For Wild Man Wind is making a din;
And mother says that it is a sin:
And I'm almost ready to cry.

I can't go out in the wind and wet,
And it's a long time yet till the table's set,
And we are ready for toast and tea:
It's a long time too till the lamp is lit,
And my father's home and I can sit,
And he can read to me.

And I can not play or do a thing;
And there's no one coming visiting,
F...

Madison Julius Cawein

Certain Truths About Certain Things

I.

And the boy that lives next door
Said to me one day, There's more
In those rhymes of Mother Goose
And those tales, I don't care whose,
Arabian Nights or Grimm's, or, well,
Any one's, than, I've no doubt,
You or I can ever tell,
Or can ever know about.

II.

Why, there is a land, you know,
Where the world is so-and-so:
Where old Hick-a-Hack-a-more
Kicks the king right out his door
And sits on his throne and kills
Blackbirds as they fly from pies,
Pots them on the windowsills
I ain't telling you no lies.

III.

For I met an old man once
And he was n't any dunce
Who just told me he had been
To that land and he had seen
All those people: even met
Handy Spandy in a shop;
And old Doctor Foster...

Madison Julius Cawein

Little Boy Bad And Little Girl Rude

My nurse she tells me stories, too,
To make me good, she says; but I
She scares me so! I want to cry:
And if my father ever knew,
I guess he'd make things pretty hot,
And show her that she'd better not.

Last night I could n't sleep, because
She scared me with a story; yes,
Because I had been bad, I guess,
And said I hated Santa Claus
And everything: and then she told
This story that just made me cold:

I.

Little Boy Bad, a way he had
Of making his father and mother mad;
Until one day he ran away
To a wood where the cats of the witches stay.
And there he tarried awhile to play,
For a little while in the witches' way.

II.

When night drew nigh he heard a cry,
And in every bush he saw an eye.
Then, three b...

Madison Julius Cawein

Christmas Eve

Christmas Eve is here at last.
And I'm happy as can be.
Going to have a Christmas-tree,
And more toys than any past
Christmas saw or ever had,
So my mother says, for me.
And I'm glad, am just as glad
As a little boy can be.
Christmas Eve is here at last.
Christmas Eve is here at last.

And I'm going to-bed to-night
Early; when it's candlelight:
Christmas Day can't come too fast.
I'll not go to-sleep, I think,
But be wide awake when, right
Here, Old Santa, with a wink,
Down the chimney comes to-night.
Christmas Eve is here at last.
Christmas Eve is here at last.

And the dining-room and hall,
Parlor too, I guess, and wall,
All are hung with holly; massed
With old mistletoe. A smell
Sniffs of cedar over all.
Ever...

Madison Julius Cawein