The Snowdrop

Yes, punctual to the time, thou'rt here again.
As still thou art : — though frost or rain may vary.
And icicles blockade the rockbirds' aery,
Or sluggish snow lie heavy on the plain.
Yet thou, sweet child of hoary January,
Art here to harbinger the laggard train
Of vernal flowers, a duteous missionary.
Nor cold can blight, nor fog thy pureness stain.
Beneath the dripping eaves, or on the slope
Of cottage garden, whether mark'd or no.
Thy meek head bends in undistinguished row.
Blessings upon thee, gentle bud of hope !
And Nature bless the spot where thou dost grow-
Young life emerging from thy kindred snow !