THE CROCUS, AND SOME DREAMING 31 



worn-out parts, hundreds upon hundreds of frail 

 crocuses are peeping, dainty in their new-born 

 white and purple. 



' Though not a whisper of her voice he hear, 

 The buried bulb does know 

 The signals of the year, 

 And hails far Summer with his lifted spear.' 



It is a moving sight, these frail and lonely 

 legions standing amid such threatening wastes of 

 snow. How radiant and gleaming they are under 

 the sun's encouragement I How brave of them to 

 venture thus early from their hiding ! And yet 

 do they carry themselves with no air of bravado. 

 Their dainty bearing is the personification of sweet 

 humility. Their meekness, however, has no taint 

 of trembling. Confidence, begot of duty faithfully 

 performed, lends them a calm and serenity which 

 is positively infectious. Unconscious of all worth, 

 they are a thousand times the worthier and fairer. 

 Indifference, though, is foreign to their nature ; 

 and Self has so nice a place as to give fuU aid to 

 the best of purpose. Meekly dauntless, unselfishly 

 self-assertive, truly do they come to quicken the 

 hopes and gladden the hearts of winter - logged 

 mortals, setting these latter a lesson well worth 

 bearing in mind. 



