Jack Frost Original
I once knew a boy named Jack
whom I gave all my love—
but he did not give it back.
Instead he took from me my love
and returned a heart of ice.
For it was not enough—my love—
my mind too—he did entice
with pictures of rarest beauty—
I could not but love—
made with Crystalline fluidity
almost as if, me, he did love—
Why else would he paint such artistry
upon my windowpane, if not love?
Yes, his was a mind of mastery—
and yet, unable was he—to love.
Jack Frost VS 2
I know this boy named Jack,
to whom I gave my love entire;
Yet he has never given it back—
Leaves me cold in frosty desire.
For love alone could never save—
one whose chest holds a heart of ice.
He took from me the warmth I gave—
my heart he claimed, with art precise—
Still he lures my wandering mind
with visions sharp and fair—
Crystalline dreams, by frost designed,
the shimmering in the air—
As he paints my face, an icy tear,
with distinct, enchanted hand.
Each stroke draws me, ever-near,
a spell I scarce can understand.
Colorless rare beauty, frozen clear,
His mind both cruel and kind—
He lures me in against my fear,
enchanted, still confined.
Why does he weave these frosted chains,
such mastery thereof?
On windowpanes his art remains—
yet he has never loved.

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