The Snowdrop

MEEK flow'ret! earliest child of Spring,
Her bloomy tribe thy hand shall lead;
Thou, first thy welcome boon to bring,
From Winter's bondage freed.
With new delight our raptur'd eyes
Thy modest beauties trace,
Earnest of thousand glowing dies,
That soon the mead shall grace.
Mild emblem of our infant years,
Low bends thy tender head;
Oft from thy cheek the dew-drop tear
On Nature's breast are shed.
In spotless purity bedight,
Alas! how short thy stay!
Soon brighter blossoms charm the sight,
And bloom their transient day.
Might infant innocence and truth
The flow'rs of life adorn!
But ah! the beauteous rose of youth
Oft bears the wounding thorn.
Yet tho' more vivid blossoms boast,
A form in brighter beauties drest,
Thy earlier charms still please us most,
Tho' clad in simple vest.