24 
T1IE LOVEIt’s OEEEllING, 
THE SNOW-DEOP. 
-When I meet thee by the way, 
Like a pretty, sportive child, 
On the winter-wasted wild, 
With thy darling breeze at play, 
Opening to the radiant sky 
All the sweetness of thine eye; 
—Or bright with sunbeams, glad with showers, 
O thou fairy-queen of flowers! 
Watch thee o’er the plain advance, 
At the head of Flora’s dauce; 
Simple Snowdrop! then in thee 
All thy sister train I see: 
Every brilliant bud that blows, 
From the blue-bell to the rose; 
All the beauties that appear 
On the bosom of the year; 
All that wreath the locks of Spring, 
Summer’s ardent breath perfume, 
Or on the lap of Autumn bloom, 
—All to thee their tribute bring, 
Exhale their incense at thy shrine, 
—Their hues, their odours all are thine! 
For while thy humble form I view, 
The Muse’s keen, prophetic sight 
Brings fair futurity to light, 
And fancy’s magic makes the vision true. 
J. MONTGOMERY. 
