SNOW-DROP. 
59 
THE SNOW-DROP’S CALL. 
MISS E. EMRA. 
Who else is coming? — There’s sunshine here! 
Ye would strew the way for the infant year: 
The frost-winds blow on the barren hill, 
And icicles hang on the quarry still ; 
But sunny, and shelter’d, and safe, are we, 
In the moss at the foot of the sycamore tree. 
Are ye not coming? the first birds sing; 
They call to her bowers the lingering Spring; 
And, afar to his home near the north-pole star, 
Old Winter is gone in his snow-clad car; 
And the storms are past, and the sky is clear, 
And we are alone, sweet sisters ! here. 
Will ye not follow? Ye safe shall be 
In the green moss under the sycamore tree. 
And, oh! there is health in the clear cold breeze, 
And a sound of joy in the leafless trees; 
And the sun is pale, yet his pleasant gleam 
Has waken’d the earth, and unchain’d the stream, 
And the soft west-wind, oh, it gently blows ! 
Hasten to follow, pale lady Primrose! 
And Hyacinth graceful, and Crocus gay, 
For we have not met this many a day. 
Follow us, follow us ! follow us then, 
All ye whose home is in grove or glen. 
Why do ye linger? Who else is coming, 
Now Spring is awake with the wild bees’ humming? 
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