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CROCUS. 
And sudden Hyacinths the turf bestrow, 
And flowery Crocus made the mountain glow. 
HOMER. 
THE CROCUS. 
J. R. PRIOR. 
Dainty young thing 
Of life ! — thou vent’rous flower, 
Who growest through the hard, cold bower 
Of wintry spring : — 
Thou various-hued, 
Soft, voiceless bell, whose spire 
Rocks in the grassy leaves like wire, 
In solitude ; — 
Like patience, thou 
Art quiet in thy earth, 
Instructing Hope that Virtue’s birth 
Is Feeling’s vow. 
Thy fancied bride ! — 
The delicate Snow-drop, keeps 
Her home with thee; she wakes and sleeps 
Near thy true side. 
Will man but hear! 
A simple flower can tell 
What beauties in his mind should dwell 
Through Passion’s sphere. 
