University of Virginia Library


196

THE SNOWDROP.

Pretty little modest gem,
First in Nature's diadem;
Pressed with snow, the first to rise,
Pure as stars that deck the skies.
With thy crown of spotless white,
Like a fairy of the night,
Bending down thy modest head,—
Frost thy pillow, snow thy bed.
'Mid the hail, the sleet, the frost,
In the snow-storm sometimes lost;
But thy beauteous head appears
Lovelier with its icy tears.
So thou gentle, modest fair,
Brav'st the storm with truth and care;
Though not like the roses drest,
Virtue blossoms in thy breast,
Brighter than the brightest star,
Seen to glitter from afar:
Guilt can never hang on thee;
Truth lives through eternity.

197

He that made the snowdrop knows
When the storm of sorrow blows:
And with all His mighty care,
Will protect the virtuous fair.