32 
7 HE LANGUAGE OF FLOWERS. 
Not heeding how the wind did blow, 
Bitter and bleak on all around : 
She gazed on Spring, who at her feet 
Was looking at the snow and sleet. 
Spring sighed, and through the driving gale 
Her warm breath caught the falling snow, 
And from the flakes a flower as pale 
Did into spotless whiteness blow, 
Hope, smiling, saw the blossom fall, 
And watched its root strike in the earth,— 
“ I will that flower the Snowdrop call,” 
Said Hope, “ in memory of its birth \ 
And through all ages it shall be 
In reverence held, for love of me.” 
“ And ever from my hidden bowers,” 
Said Spring, “ it first of all shall go, 
And be the herald of the flowers, 
To warn away the sheeted snow: 
Its mission done, then by thy side 
All summer long it shall remain. 
While other flowers I scatter wide 
O’er every hill, and wood, and plain, 
This shall return, and ever be 
A sweet companion, Hope, for thee.” 
Hope stooped and kissed her sister Spring, 
And said, “ For hours, when thou art gone, 
I’m left alone without a thing 
That I can fix my heart upon ; 
’Twill cheer me many a lonely hour, 
And in the future I shall see 
