SNOWDROP. 
25 
White-robed flower, in lonely beauty, 
Rising from a wintry bed; 
Chilling winds, and blasts ungenial, 
Rudely threatening 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 colouring, 
Paint thy bells with gaudy pride; 
Mildly charmed, we seek thy fragrance, 
Where no thorns, insidious hide. 
’Tis not thine, with flaunting beauty 
To attract the roving sight; 
Nature, from her varied wardrobe, 
Chose thy vest of purest white. 
White, as falls the fleecy shower, 
Thy soft form in sweetness grows ; 
Not more fair the valley’s treasure, 
Not more sweet her lily blows. 
Drooping harbinger of Flora, 
Simply are thy blossoms drest; 
Artless as the gentle virtues 
Mansioned in the blameless breast 
When to pure and timid virtue 
Friendship twines a votive wreath, 
O’er the fair selected garland 
Thou thy perfume soft shall breathe. 
