To melt away the snow. See, how it falls
In drops of crystal from the glowing spray,
Wreathed with deep crimson buds—the fairy fires.
And now that there is something bright on earth,
The clouds are driven from the clear blue sky,
And heaven is bright'ning too. Serene and calm,
The very air is hushed into repose,

That not a breath may ruffle the young flowers,
Now gently waking into life and light.

TO A NARCISSUS IN JANUARY.

:

How beautiful art thou, my winter Flower!
Lifting with graceful pride thy stately head,
Heavy with its rich crown of pearl and gold:
Thou sheddest on the air such soft perfume,
That I could deem 'twas incense, gently flung
Before thy beauty's shrine by some fair sprite
Enamoured of thy maiden loveliness.

The hyacinth and violet entwined

Have scarce so sweet an odour.

Thanks, my Flower,

My gentle, kind companion-for to me

Thy silence is most eloquent:- I love

Thy quiet steadfast gaze, as, o'er my desk,

The long day through thou hast seemed watching me; And ever and anon, in glancing up,

I still have met thy calm unchanging look,

Reminding me, in silence, of the friend

Whose gift thou wert to me. Yet thou wert then A mere unsightly root. Oh! how I watched, With almost childish eagerness, thy growth,

And tended thee with more than common care.