TO THE CROCUS.
By Mary Patterson
(From Mrs Kirtland’s Poetry of Flowers 1800)
Lowly, sprightly little flower !
Herald of a brighter bloom,
Bursting in a sunny hour
From thy winter tomb.
Hues you bring, bright, gay, and tender,
As if never to decay;
Fleeting in their varied splendor-
Soon, alas ! it fades away.
Thus the hopes I long had cherished
Thus the friends I long had known.
One by one, like you, have perished.
Blighted—I must fade alone.