 | The Uncollected Poems of Henry Timrod |  |
TO THE SNOWDROP
Sweet Flower when winter drear
Spreads o'er the cheerless earth his blighting wing,
Thou com'st to tell us better days are near
And bid us look for joyous spring.
Spreads o'er the cheerless earth his blighting wing,
Thou com'st to tell us better days are near
And bid us look for joyous spring.
Emblem of hope that speaks of future mirth
Dearer to me thou art than any treasure,
For thou dost teach there is no grief on earth
That is not mix'd with pleasure,
Sooth'd by the memory of happy hours
And hopes that years to come may yet be crown'd with flowers.
Dearer to me thou art than any treasure,
For thou dost teach there is no grief on earth
That is not mix'd with pleasure,
Sooth'd by the memory of happy hours
And hopes that years to come may yet be crown'd with flowers.
| The Uncollected Poems of Henry Timrod | |