SNOW-DROP. 
With thy darling breeze at play, 
Opening to the radiant sky 
All the sweetness of thine eye; 
— Or bright with sunbeams, fresh with showers, 
O thou Fairy-Queen of flowers ! 
Watch thee o’er the plain advance 
At the head of Flora’s dance; 
Simple snow-deop! then in thee 
All thy sister-train I see: 
Every brilliant bud that blows, 
From the blue-bell to the rose; 
All the beauties that appear 
On the bosom of the year; 
All that wreathe the locks of Spring, 
Summer’s ardent breath perfume, 
Or on the lap of Autumn bloom, 
All to thee their tribute bring, 
Exhale their incense at thy shrine, 
-—Their hues, their odours all are thine! 
For while "thy humble form I view, 
The Muse’s keen prophetic sight 
Brings fair Futurity to light, 
And Fancy’s magic makes the vision true. 
— There is a Winter in my soul, 
The Winter of despair; 
Oh! when shall Spring its rage control? 
When shall the snow-drop blossom there? 
Cold gleams of comfort sometimes dart 
A dawn of glory on my heart, 
