12 
“ Underfoot, the violet, 
Crocus, and hyacinth, with rich inlay, 
Broider’d the ground; more colour’d than with stone 
Of costliest emblem.” 
e Rock’d by the chilly blast, 
And ’mid the cold snow peeping, 
Why do ye deck the waste 
When other buds are sleeping ? 
Did ye, as they, 
Awhile delay 
Till softer gales were sighing, 
Perchance no flower 
In summer bower 
With ye in charms were vying.’ 
4 No fervid beam, ’t is true, 
Lady, our slumber breaketh, 
From our light cups the dew 
No sportive zephyr shaketh; 
Heralds of spring, 
The wind’s rude wins 
O 
