76 TO THE SNOW-DROP. 
Thus it bursts forth like thy pale cup, 
Glist’ning amid its dewy tears, 
And bears the sinking spirit up 
Amid its chilling fears ; 
But still more animating far. 
If meek religion’s eye may trace. 
Even in thy glimrn’ring earth-born star. 
The holier hope of grace ! 
The hope that, as thy beauteous bloom 
Expands to glad the close of day, 
So through the shadows of the tomb 
May break forth mercy’s ray. 
—Barton. 
TO THE SNOW-DROP. 
Thou first-born of the year’s delight, 
Pride of the dewy glade, 
In vernal green and virgin white, 
Thy vestal robes, array’d ; 
’Tis not because thy drooping form 
Sinks grateful on its nest, 
When chilly shades from gathering storm 
Affright thy tender breast; 
i 
