The Crocuses.
They heard the South wind sighingA murmur of the rain;And they knew that Earth was longingTo see them all again.While the snow-drops still were sleepingBeneath the silent sod;They felt their new life pulsingWithin the dark, cold clod.Not a daffodil nor daisyHad dared to raise its head;Not a fair-haired dandelionPeeped timid from its bed;Though a tremor of the winterDid shivering through them run;Yet they lifted up their foreheadsTo greet the vernal sun.And the sunbeams gave them welcome,As did the morning air—And scattered o’er their simple robesRich tints of beauty rare.Soon a host of lovely flowersFrom vales and woodland burst;But in all that fair processionThe crocuses were first.First to weave for Earth a chapletTo crown her dear old head;And to beautify the pathwayWhere winter still did tread.And their loved and white haired motherSmiled sweetly ’neath the touch,When she knew her faithful childrenWere loving her so much.
They heard the South wind sighingA murmur of the rain;And they knew that Earth was longingTo see them all again.While the snow-drops still were sleepingBeneath the silent sod;They felt their new life pulsingWithin the dark, cold clod.Not a daffodil nor daisyHad dared to raise its head;Not a fair-haired dandelionPeeped timid from its bed;Though a tremor of the winterDid shivering through them run;Yet they lifted up their foreheadsTo greet the vernal sun.And the sunbeams gave them welcome,As did the morning air—And scattered o’er their simple robesRich tints of beauty rare.Soon a host of lovely flowersFrom vales and woodland burst;But in all that fair processionThe crocuses were first.First to weave for Earth a chapletTo crown her dear old head;And to beautify the pathwayWhere winter still did tread.And their loved and white haired motherSmiled sweetly ’neath the touch,When she knew her faithful childrenWere loving her so much.
They heard the South wind sighingA murmur of the rain;And they knew that Earth was longingTo see them all again.
They heard the South wind sighing
A murmur of the rain;
And they knew that Earth was longing
To see them all again.
While the snow-drops still were sleepingBeneath the silent sod;They felt their new life pulsingWithin the dark, cold clod.
While the snow-drops still were sleeping
Beneath the silent sod;
They felt their new life pulsing
Within the dark, cold clod.
Not a daffodil nor daisyHad dared to raise its head;Not a fair-haired dandelionPeeped timid from its bed;
Not a daffodil nor daisy
Had dared to raise its head;
Not a fair-haired dandelion
Peeped timid from its bed;
Though a tremor of the winterDid shivering through them run;Yet they lifted up their foreheadsTo greet the vernal sun.
Though a tremor of the winter
Did shivering through them run;
Yet they lifted up their foreheads
To greet the vernal sun.
And the sunbeams gave them welcome,As did the morning air—And scattered o’er their simple robesRich tints of beauty rare.
And the sunbeams gave them welcome,
As did the morning air—
And scattered o’er their simple robes
Rich tints of beauty rare.
Soon a host of lovely flowersFrom vales and woodland burst;But in all that fair processionThe crocuses were first.
Soon a host of lovely flowers
From vales and woodland burst;
But in all that fair procession
The crocuses were first.
First to weave for Earth a chapletTo crown her dear old head;And to beautify the pathwayWhere winter still did tread.
First to weave for Earth a chaplet
To crown her dear old head;
And to beautify the pathway
Where winter still did tread.
And their loved and white haired motherSmiled sweetly ’neath the touch,When she knew her faithful childrenWere loving her so much.
And their loved and white haired mother
Smiled sweetly ’neath the touch,
When she knew her faithful children
Were loving her so much.