- icicle. The beauty of a frosty morning is described in a poem by Ebenezer Picken (1813):
Frae ilka buss, the tangles gay,
Hang skinklin’ in the mornin’ ray.
However, icicles are not always so cheery. You can feel the depth to which temperatures have plummeted in S. A. Duncan’s Chronicles of Mary Anne (1945): It wiz a nicht o’ bitter black frost; ootside the tangles hung a yaird lang. And you have to empathise with the character in Robert Ford’s Glints o’ Glentoddy whose taes were as cauld as tankles.