66 
SNOW-DROP. 
O blessed lot! ere guilt and care 
That smile of innocence belie, 
To hide in mother’s arms and there, 
Where one has lived to die ! 
No dust defiles spring’s first-born flower, 
No blight is in the snow-drop’s bower. 
Yet more—’tis to the infant dead, 
The blessed word is given : 
“ Their angels live ! ” the Saviour said, 
“ Round the bright throne in heaven : ” 
No storm these stainless flowers shall tear, 
The snow-drops never wither there. 
