A small bird twitters on a leafless spray,
Across the snow-waste breaks a gleam of gold:
What token can I give my friend today
But February blossoms, pure and cold?
Frail gifts from Nature’s half-reluctant hand ……
I seevthe signs of Spring about the land….
These chill snowdrops, fresh from wintry bowers,
Are the forerunners of a world of flowers.
by Sarah Downey, Snowdrops (Consolation), c. 1881