SNOWDROP. 
29 
Where’er I find thee, gentle flower, 
Thou still art sweet and dear to me ! 
For I have known the cheerless hour. 
Have seen the sunbeams cold and pale, 
Have felt the chilling wintry gale. 
And wept and shrunk, like thee 1 
Mary Robinson. 
This firstling of the year may not inaptly he 
considered as an emblem of hope. Some have 
regarded it as a symbbl of humility, of grati¬ 
tude, and of virgin innocence. 
L he north wind howls; the naked branches 
of the trees are powdered with hoar frost; the 
earth is covered by a white, uniform carpet; the 
tuneful birds are silent; the captive rivulet 
ceases to murmur. At this season, when all 
Nature appears dead, a delicate flower springs 
up amidst the snow, displaying to the asto¬ 
nished eye its ivory bells, embosoming a small 
green spot, as if marked by the pencil of Hope. 
In expanding its blossoms on the snow, this de¬ 
licate flower seems to smile at the rigours of 
winter, and to say :—“ Take courage ; here I 
am to cheer you with the hope of milder wea¬ 
ther !” 
