52 
SNOW-DROP. 
Earliest bud that decks the garden, 
Fairest of the fragrant race, 
First-born child of vernal Flora, 
Seeking mild thy lowly place; 
Though no warm or murmuring zephyr 
Fan thy leaves with balmy wing, 
Pleased we hail thee, spotless blossom, 
Herald of the infant Spring. 
Through the cold and cheerless season 
Soft thy tender form expands, 
Safe in unaspiring graces, 
Foremost of the bloomy bands. 
White-robed flower, in lonely beauty 
Rising from a wintry bed ; 
Chilling winds, and blasts ungenial, 
Rudely threat’ning round thy head. 
Silvery bud, thy pensile foliage 
Seems the angry blasts to fear; 
Yet secure, thy tender texture 
Ornaments the rising year. 
No warm tints, or vivid col’ring, 
Paint thy bells with gaudy pride; 
Mildly charm’d, we seek thy fragrance, 
Where no thorns insidious hide. 
