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CROCUS. 
The same. — j. it. prior. 
Dainty young thing 
Of life! — thou vent’rous flower, 
Who growest through the hard, cold bower 
Of wintry spring:— 
Thou various hued, 
Soft, voiceless bell, whose spire 
Rocks in the grassy leaves like wire, 
In solitude; — 
Like patience, thou 
Art quiet in thy earth, 
Instructing Hope that Virtue’s birth 
Is feeling’s vow. 
Thy fancied bride! 
The delicate Snow-drop keeps 
Her home with thee ; she wakes and sleeps 
Near thy true side. 
Will man but hear! 
A simple flower can tell 
What beauties in his mind should dwell 
Through Passion’s sphere. 
