But for the moral they unfold!




=The Crocus' Soliloquy=

Down in my solitude, under the snow,
Where nothing cheering can reach me--
Here, without light to see how I should grow,
I trust to nature to teach me.
I'll not despair, nor be idle, nor frown;
Though locked in so gloomy a dwelling!
My leaves shall shoot up, while my root's running down,
And the bud in my bosom is swelling.

Soon as the frost will get off from my bed,
From this cold dungeon to free me,
I will peer up, with my bright little head;
All will be joyful to see me!
Then from my heart will young petals diverge,
Like rays of the sun from their focus;
When I from the darkness of earth shall emerge,
All complete, as a beautiful CROCUS!

Gayly arrayed in gold, crimson, and green,
When to their view I have risen;
Will they not wonder how one so serene
Came from so dismal a prison?
Many, perhaps, from so simple a flower