Like pendent flakes of vegetating snow, <br />The early herald of the infant year, <br />Ere yet the adventurous crocus dares to blow, <br />Beneath the orchard boughs thy buds appear. <br /> <br />While still the cold north-east ungenial lours, <br />And scarce the hazel in the leafless copse, <br />Or sallows shew their downy powder'd flowers, <br />The grass is spangled with thy silver drops. <br /> <br />Yet when those pallid blossoms shall give place <br />To countless tribes, of richer hue and scent, <br />Summer's gay blooms, and autumn's yellow race, <br />I shall thy pale inodorous bells lament. <br /> <br />So journeying onward in life's varying track, <br />Ev'n while warm youth its bright illusion lends, <br />Fond memory often with regret looks back <br />To childhood's pleasures, and to infant friends.<br /><br />Charlotte Smith<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/to-the-snowdrop/
