Classic Poem

Ye snowdrops dear! ye snowdrops dear!
How lovely are ye blooming here!
The snow is lying on the moor,
And heap'd around the cottage door;
The trees are bent by blast so strong,
Which thunders o'er you loud and long:
Nought but the ice-king with you here,
Ye snowdrops dear! ye snowdrops dear!

Ye snowdrops dear! ye snowdrops dear!
Come, let me wipe away the tear,
And gaze upon you lying low,
By storm and tempest beaten so,
Frown'd on by wind and wintry sky,
My white-leaf'd flowers, and so am I;
Still hope points on to skies more clear,
Ye snowdrops dear! ye snowdrops dear!

Ye snowdrops dear! ye snowdrops dear!
To me ye evermore appear
Like dwellers of that clime above,
Where every flower is fann'd by love,
And trees in summer freshness stand,
Dropp'd on this bank by angel hand,
The pilgrim's vision thus to cheer,
Ye snowdrops dear! ye snowdrops dear!

Ye snowdrops dear! ye snowdrops dear!
Ye tell us spring will soon be here,
When violets smile in lane and lea;
The cuckoo's harbingers are ye,
In white robes whispering mid the snow
That frost and hail will shortly go,
And sweet flowers fill our hemisphere,
Ye snowdrops dear! ye snowdrops dear!

Ye snowdrops dear! ye snowdrops dear!
How lowly are ye lying here,
Like worth amid the ice and snow
Of cold neglect the stars below!
But wherefore should I weep to-day?
No, no! let's dash those drops away;
Your Maker's presence is so near,
Ye snowdrops dear! ye snowdrops dear!