SNOW-DROP. 
55 
Search the hill, the dale, the lawn, 
To behold the SNow-DRor white 
Start to light, 
And shine in Flora’s desert bowers, 
Beneath the vernal dawn, 
The Morning Star of Flowers! 
O welcome to our isle, 
Thou Messenger of peace! 
At whose bewitching smile 
The embattled tempests cease; 
Emblem of Innocence and Truth! 
First-born of Nature’s womb, 
When strong in renovated youth, 
She bursts from Winter’s tomb; 
Tf y parent’s eye hath shed 
A precious dew-drop on thine head, 
Frail as a mother’s tear 
Upon her infant’s face, 
When ardent hope to tender fear, 
And anxious love, gives place. 
But lo! the dew-drop flits away, 
The sun salutes thee with a ray 
Warm as a mother’s kiss, 
Upon her infant’s cheek, 
When the heart bounds with bliss, 
And joy that cannot speak! 
— When I meet thee by the way, 
Like a pretty, sportive child, 
On the winter-wasted wild, 
