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Oh! many a glorious flower there gi’ows 
In far and richer lands : 
But high in my affection e’er 
The Autumn Crocus stands. 
I love their faces, when, by one 
And two, they’re looking out:— 
I love them, when the spreading field 
Is purple all about. 
I loved them in the by-gone years 
Of childhood’s thoughtless laughter. 
When I marvelled why the flowers came first. 
And the leaves the season after. 
I loved them then, I love them now. 
The gentle and the bright; 
I love them for the thoughts they bring 
Of Spring’s returning light; ' 
When, first-born of the waking earth. 
Their kindred gay appear. 
And, with the Snowdrop, usher in 
The hope-invested year. 
But they are passing from us now. 
And round each frail white stem 
The purple petals faded droop; 
Winter will chase e’en them. 
