Frore

We die, even as the winds of Autumn fade, Expiring in the frore and foggy air.

For heavenly beauty, mid perennial springs, Feels not the change, which frore sad winter brings.

Till we conceive their heavens hoar, Those lights they raise but sparkles frore,

Or if one haulm whose year is o'er / Shivers on the upland frore.

My heart all Winter lay so numb / The earth so dead and frore.

And down below all fretted and frore, Were wrought the coral and the madrepore, […]