DROPS FROM FLORA’S CUP. 
THE CROCUS’S SOLILOQUY 
MISS H. F. GOULD. 
Down in my solitude under the snow, 
Where nothing cheering can reach me; 
Here, without light to see how to grow, 
I ’ll trust to nature to teach me. 
I will not despair, nor he idle, nor frown. 
Locked in so gloomy a dwelling; 
My leaves shall run up and my roots shall run down 
While the bud in my bosom is swelling. 
Soon as the frost will get out of my bed, 
From this cold dungeon to free me, 
I will peer up with my little bright head; 
All be will joyful to see me. 
Gayly arrayed in my yellow and green, 
When to their view I have risen, 
Will they not wonder how one so serene 
Came from so dismal a prison ? 
Many, perhaps, from so simple a flower, 
This lesson may borrow — 
Patient to-day, through its gloomiest hour. 
We come out the brighter to-morrow! 
