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THE CROCUS—PRIOR.
Dainty young thing
Of life!—thou venturous flower
Who growest through the hard cold bower
Of wintry spring.
Thou various hued,
Soft, voiceless bell, whose spire
Rocks in the grassy leaves like wire
In solitude.
Like patience, thou
Art quiet in thy earth,
Instructing Hope that virtue's birth
Is feeling's vow.
Thy fancied bride,
The delicate Snowdrop, keeps
Her home with thee; she wakes and sleeps
Near thy true side.
Will man but hear!
A simple flower can tell
What beauties in his mind should dwell
Through passion's sphere.
The brilliant colours and woody growth of the Pyrus Japonica, make it contrast strikingly with the pale and fragile snow-drop, near whose modest bells this superb native of Japan may often be seen, exhibiting the singular appearance I have described in the illustrative lines. The buds and flowers of brightest crimson, with their golden-coloured anthers, come peering out through the snow wreaths, that lie lightly upon their trained stems; and, to a far less fanciful eye than mine, might well
