36 
LANGUAGE OF FLOWERS. 
SNOWDROP. 
HOPE. 
Thottgh the Snowdrop cannot, perhaps, strictly 
speaking, be called one of the flowers of spring, still, 
as the herald of that season, we may be excused for 
placing it at the head of them. 
Fair-handed Spring unbosom’s every grace, 
Throws out the snowdrop and the crocus first. 
Thomson. 
As Flora’s breath by some transforming power, 
Had changed =n icicle into a flower. 
Its name and hue the scentless plant retains, 
And winter lingers in its icy chains. 
Barbacld. 
The snowdrop. Winter’s timid child. 
Awakes to life, bedewed with tears. 
And flings around its fragrance mild ; 
And, where no rival flow’rets bloom. 
Amidst the bare and chilling gloom, 
A beauteous gem appears. 
All weak and wan with head inclined. 
Its parent breast the drifted snow, 
It trembles, while the ruthless wind ' 
Bends its slim form ; the tempest lowers, 
Its emerald eye drops crystal showers 
On its cold bed below. 
