A Snowdrop

Only a tender little thing,

So velvet soft and white it is;

But March himself is not so strong,
With all the great gales that are his.

In vain his whistling storms he calls,
In vain the cohorts of his power
Ride down the sky on mighty blasts-..
He cannot crush the little flower.

Its white spear parts the sod, the snows
Than that white spear less snowy are,
The rains roll off its crest like spray,
It lifts again its spotless star.

HARRIET PRESCOTT SPOFEORF

Green

Things Growing

Almond Blossom

Blossom of the almond trees
April's gift to April's bees,
Birthday ornament of spring,
Flora's fairest daughterling;
Coming when no flowerets dare
Trust the cruel outer air;
When the royal kingcup bold
Dares not don his coat of gold;

Green

Things Growing

And the sturdy black-thorn spray
Keeps his silver for the May;—
Coming when no flowerets would,
Save thy lowly sisterhood,

Early violets, blue and white,
Dying for their love of light.
Almond blossom, sent to teach us

That the spring-days soon will reach us,
Lest, with longing over-tried,
We die, as the violets died-
Blossom, clouding all the tree
With thy crimson broidery,
Long before a leaf of green
O'er the bravest bough is seen;
Ah! when winter winds are swinging

All thy red bells into ringing,

With a bee in every bell,

Almond blossom, we greet thee well.

EDWIN ARNOLD,

Wild Rose

Some innocent girlish Kisses by a charm
Changed to a flight of small pink Butterflies,
To waver under June's delicious skies
Across gold-sprinkled meads-the merry swarm
A smiling powerful word did next transform

To little Roses mesh'd in green, allies

Of earth and air, and everything we prize For mirthful, gentle, delicate, and warm.

WILLIAM ALLINGHAM.

Tiger-Lilies

I like not lady-slippers,

Nor yet the sweet-pea blossoms,
Nor yet the flaky roses,
Red, or white as snow;
I like the chaliced lilies,
The heavy Eastern lilies,
The gorgeous tiger-lilies,
That in our garden grow!

For they are tall and slender;

Their mouths are dashed with carmine,
And when the wind sweeps by them,

On their emerald stalks

They bend so proud and graceful,—
They are Circassian women,

The favorites of the Sultan,

Adown our garden walks!

And when the rain is falling,

I sit beside the window

And watch them glow and glisten,—
How they burn and glow!

Green Things Growing

Green Things Growing

O for the burning lilies,
The tender Eastern lilies,
The gorgeous tiger-lilies,
That in our garden grow!

THOMAS BAILEY ALDRICH.

To the Fringed Gentian

Thou blossom bright with autumn dew,
And colored with the heaven's own blue,
That openest, when the quiet light
Succeeds the keen and frosty night;

Thou comest not when violets lean
O'er wandering brooks and springs unseen,
Or columbines in purple dressed,

Nod o'er the ground-bird's hidden nest.

Thou waitest late, and com'st alone,
When woods are bare, and birds are flown,
And frosts and shortening days portend
The aged Year is near his end.

Then doth thy sweet and quiet eye
Look through its fringes to the sky,
Blue-blue-as if that sky let fall

A flower from its cerulean wall.

*By courtesy of D. Appleton & Co., publishers of Bryant's Complete Poetical Works.

I would that thus, when I shall see
The hour of death draw near to me,
Hope, blossoming within my heart,
May look to heaven as I depart.

WILLIAM CULLEN BRYANT.

Green Things Growing

To a Mountain Daisy

On Turning One Down With the Plough in April.

Wee, modest, crimson-tippèd flow'r,

Thou's met me in an evil hour;

For I maun crush amang the stoure
Thy slender stem;

To spare thee now is past my pow'r,
Thou bonnie gem!

Alas! it's no thy neebor sweet,

The bonnie lark, companion meet!

Bending thee 'mang the dewy weet,

Wi' spreckl'd breast,

When upward-springing, blithe, to greet

The purpling east.

Cauld blew the bitter-biting north
Upon thy early, humble birth;

Yet cheerfully thou glinted forth

Amid the storm,

Scarce rear'd above the parent earth

Thy tender form.