SNOW-DROP 
A Promise. 
TO A DEAR LITTLE TRUANT WHO WOULDN’T COME HOME. 
When are you coming ? the flowers have come! 
Bees in the balmy air happily hum; 
Tenderly, timidly, down in the dell, 
Sighs the sweet violet—droops the harebell; 
Soft on the wavy grass glistens the dew; 
Spring keeps her promises; why do not you 0 ! 
Up in the air, love, the clouds are at play; 
You are more graceful and lovely than they! 
Birds in the woods carol all the day long, 
Whpn are you coming to join in the song? 
Fairer than flowers, and purer than dew! 
Other sweet things are here; why are not you ? 
When are you coming? we’ve welcomed the rose! 
Every light zephyr, as gaily it goes, 
Whispers of other flowers met on its way; 
Why has it nothing of you , love, to say ? 
Why does it tell us of music and dew? 
Rose of the South! we are waiting for you! 
Do, darling, come to us—’mid the dark trees, 
“Like a lute” murmurs the musical breeze; 
Sometimes the brook, as it trips by the flowers, 
Hushes its warble to listen for yours! 
Pure as the violet, lovely and true! 
Spring should have waited till she could bring you! 
* F. S. 0. 
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