The Snow-Drop
- 1Fear no more, thou timid Flower!
- 2Fear thou no more the winter's might,
- 3The whelming thaw, the ponderous shower,
- 4The silence of the freezing night!
- 5Since Laura murmur'd o'er thy leaves
- 6The potent sorceries of song,
- 7To thee, meek Flowret! gentler gales
- 8And cloudless skies belong.
- 9Her eye with tearful meanings fraught,
- 10She gaz'd till all the body mov'd
- 11Interpreting the Spirit's thought--
- 12The Spirit's eager sympathy
- 13Now trembled with thy trembling stem,
- 14And while thou droopedst o'er thy bed,
- 15With sweet unconscious sympathy
- 16Inclin'd the drooping head.
- 17She droop'd her head, she stretch'd her arm,
- 18She whisper'd low her witching rhymes,
- 19Fame unreluctant heard the charm,
- 20And bore thee to Pierian climes!
- 21Fear thou no more the Matin Frost
- 22That sparkled on thy bed of snow;
- 23For there, mid laurels ever green,
- 24Immortal thou shalt blow.
- 25Thy petals boast a white more soft,
- 26The spell hath so perfuméd thee,
- 27That careless Love shall deem thee oft
- 28A blossom from his Myrtle tree.
- 29Then, laughing at the fair deceit,
- 30Shall race with some Etesian wind
- 31To seek the woven arboret
- 32Where Laura lies reclin'd.
- 33All them whom Love and Fancy grace,
- 34When grosser eyes are clos'd in sleep,
- 35The gentle spirits of the place
- 36Waft up the insuperable steep,
- 37On whose vast summit broad and smooth
- 38Her nest the Phœnix Bird conceals,
- 39And where by cypresses o'erhung
- 40The heavenly Lethe steals.
- 41A sea-like sound the branches breathe,
- 42Stirr'd by the Breeze that loiters there;
- 43And all that stretch their limbs beneath,
- 44Forget the coil of mortal care.
- 45Strange mists along the margins rise,
- 46To heal the guests who thither come,
- 47And fit the soul to re-endure
- 48Its earthly martyrdom.
- 49The margin dear to moonlight elves
- 50Where Zephyr-trembling Lilies grow,
- 51And bend to kiss their softer selves
- 52That tremble in the stream below:--
- 53There nightly borne does Laura lie
- 54A magic Slumber heaves her breast:
- 55Her arm, white wanderer of the Harp,
- 56Beneath her cheek is prest.
- 57The Harp uphung by golden chains
- 58Of that low wind which whispers round,
- 59With coy reproachfulness complains,
- 60In snatches of reluctant sound:
- 61The music hovers half-perceiv'd,
- 62And only moulds the slumberer's dreams;
- 63Remember'd LOVES relume her cheek
- 64With Youth's returning gleams.