frost

He is that fallen lance that lies as hurled.  That lies unlifted now, come dew, come rust, but still lies pointed as it plowed the dust.

Last night there came a frost, which has done great damage to my garden.  . . . It is sad that Nature will so sport with us poor mortals, inviting us with sunny smiles to confide in her; and then, when we are entirely in her power, striking us to the heart.