The CROCUS

“Say, beauteous flow’r, whose burnish’d leaves “With Spring’s own livery glow: “In these bleak months, why dost thou chuse “T’ adorn a waste of snow?

“Say, dost thou grudge to summer-skies, “That bloom divinely bright: “Or, are thy beauties clearer seen, “Through this thin Robe of White?

“The Snow-drop, thy companion fair, “As well thy foil might prove, “And both might bloom in seasons sweet, “And far from hence remove.

“To Summer’s gayer months benign; “Should’st thou transfer thy reign, “Thy beauties still would brighter glow, “And doubly grace the plain.—”

I said:—the lovely smiling flow’r, The beauty of its race; And friendly to the sons of men, Reply’d with decent grace:

“Nature’s great book before thee set: “She blames thee not to scan “Her works on every side display’d, “The fit employ of man.

“When Spring and Summer glad the earth, “Ten thousand beauties bloom; “And various flow’rs of brightest hue, “Diffuse a rich perfume.

“Autumn of fruits her tribute brings, “With, yellow harvests crown’d; “Then laugh the hills and vales, and meads “With richest plenty crown’d.

“Winter, at length, with gloomy brow, “Comes on to close the year; “When flow’rs and fruits, and all their race, “Almost extinct appear.

“Yet still some few the gracious Pow’rs “Permit of these to bloom: “Nor heap alike all FLORA’S race, “In one remorseless tomb.

“And soon as to the wat’ry Signs, “The Sun retreats again; “Then she my flamy dyes awakes, “And bids me deck the plain.

“Nor less my worth because ’midst snows, “My head I early rear; “My flow’r still fresh and lively blooms, “As at the closing year.

“And know, when Autumn’s Sun prevails, “My kindred flow’rs arise; “In forms which heav’nly pow’rs might praise, “And scent the ambient skies.

“These ev’ry dismal gloom dispel; “Which mis’ry can impart, “And joy and gladness still inspire, “And harmonize the heart.

“Meanwhile my earlier station here, “(Health’s harbinger) I keep, “To glad the sad and cloudy days; “When Spring’s soft Zephyrs sleep.

It is here to be noted that the autumnal Crocus is the Saffron Flower, so famous in Medicine.

“So, in the Winter of his days, “Chear thou thy drooping friend; “His sorrows sooth, his griefs assuage, “And prompt assistance lend.

“So, when his fate and fortune lour, “Thy better aid impart; “And with thy fortune’s warmer ray, “Revive his dying heart.

She said;—the moral well became The sweet, propitious flow’r; I mark’d the lore with heedful mind, And own’d fair FRIENDSHIP’S pow’r.