Lone Flower, hemmed in with snows and white as they
But hardier far, once more I see thee bend
Thy front-- as if such presence could offend!
Who guards thy slender stalk while, day by day,
Storms, sallying from the mountain-tops, way-lay
The rising sun, and on the plains descend?
Accept the greeting that befits a friend
Whose zeal outruns his promise! Blue-eyed May
Shall soon behold this border thickly set
With bright jonquils, their odours lavishing
On the soft west-wind and his frolic peers;
Yet will I not thy gentle grace forget
Chaste Snow-drop, vent'rous harbinger of Spring,
And pensive monitor of fleeting years!
Design, coding, and editing: Copyright © 1997 by James M. Garrett. All rights reserved.