SNOWDROP. 
37 
Where’er I find thee, gentle flower, 
Thou still art sweet and dear to me 1 
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 con¬ 
sidered as an emblem of hope. Some have regarded 
it as a symbol of humility, of gratitude, and of virgin 
innocence. 
The 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 mur¬ 
mur. At this season, when all Nature appears dead, 
a delicate flower springs up amidst the snow, dis¬ 
playing to the astonished eye its ivory bells, embo¬ 
soming a small green spot, as if marked by the pencil 
of Hope. In expanding its blossoms on the snow, 
this delicate 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 weather !” 
