POETRY OF FLOWERS. 
119 
TO THE SNOWDROP. 
Tirou 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 graceful on its nest, 
When chilly shades from gathering storm 
Affright thy tender breast; 
Nor from yon river’s islet wild, 
Beneath the willow spray, 
Where like the ringlets of a child 
Thou wear’st thy circle gay; 
’Tis not for these I love thee dear,— 
Thy shy averted smiles. 
To fancy bode a joyous year, 
One of life’s fairy isles. 
They twinkle to the wintry noon, 
And cheer th’ ungenial day, 
And tell us all will glisten soon 
As green and bright as they. 
Is there a heart, that loves the spring, 
Their witness can refuse ? 
Yet mortals doubt, when nngels bring 
From heaven their Easter news. 
