Classic Poem

Snow -drifts and ice! Hush'd is the forest-strain,
Save the small chirrup of the busy wren.
And, like a monster moaning as in pain,
The great blast tumbles through the dreary fen,
Sweeps the bare hill, and groans along the glen.
Against the white drift on the frozen plain
The gentle snowdrop rests its drooping head;
Looking so beautiful, as if it came
From that dear land where holy angels tread.
O floweret fair, 'mid storm and whirlwind bred,
White as the cold snow which around thee lies,
How dost thou tell, when bitter winds are fled,
Of lovely wildings under genial skies,
With dew upon their lids, and sunbeams in their eyes!