Alone is in the virgin air.

Of all her train, the hands of Spring

First plant thee in the watery mould.

And I have seen thee blossoming

24

Beside the snow-bank's edges cold.

Thy parent sun, who bade thee view

Pale skies, and chilling moisture sip,

Has bathed thee in his own bright hue,

And streaked with jet thy glowing lip.

Yet slight thy form, and low thy seat,

And earthward bent thy gentle eye,

Unapt the passing view to meet,

When loftier flowers are flaunting nigh.

Oft, in the sunless April day,

Thy early smile has stayed my walk;

But midst the gorgeous blooms of May,

I passed thee on thy humble stalk.

So they, who climb to wealth, forget

The friends in darker fortunes tried.

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