THE SNOWDROP

I. Though Winter’s chill is in the air, And bleaker grow the skies, A flower blooms, gentle and rare, Just beneath the ice — it lies!

II. The snowdrop peeps from its snowy shroud, With paler green coming through, “To hope,” she whispers soft aloud, “For brooks, and warm winds anew.”

III. So early, brave and bold, Defying the frost so cold, She brings springs ethereal kiss, In dreams of warmth and bliss.

IV. Purest image of the dawn, To rise from death and darkness wrought, Proclaiming all once lost will spawn, A beauty returning to thought.

• John Gibson Lockhart