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Here Spring appears, with flowery chaplets bound.


Fresh Spring, the herald of love's mighty king,

In whose cote-armour richly are display'd All sorts of flowres the which on earth do spring, In goodly colours gloriously array'd.


Now gentle gales, Fanning their odoriferous wings, dispense Native perfumes, and whisper whence they stole These balmy spoils.


Who loves not Spring's voluptuous hours,
The carnival of birds and flowers ?




Though the Snowdrop cannot perhaps, strictly speaking, be called one of the flowers of spring, still, as the herald of that season, we may be excused for placing it at the head of them.

Fair-handed Spring unbosoms every grace,
Throws out the Snowdrop and the Crocus first.

As Flora's breath, by some transforming power,
Had changed an icicle into a flower,
Its name and hue the scentless plant retains,
And winter lingers in its icy chains.

The Snowdrop, Winter's timid child,

Awakes to life, bedewed with tears,
And flings around its fragrance mild ;
And, where no rival flow'rets bloom
Amidst the bare and chilling gloom,

A beauteous gem appears.
All weak and wan, with head inclined,

Its parent breast the drifted snow,
It trembles, while the ruthless wind
Bends its slim form; the tempest lowers,
Its emerald eye drops crystal showers

On its cold bed below.

Where'er I find thee, gentle flower,

Thou still art sweet and dear to me!
For I have known the cheerless hour,
Have seen the sunbeams cold and pale,
Have felt the chilling wintry gale,
And wept and shrunk, like thee!


This firstling of the year may not inaptly be considered as an emblem of hope. Some have regarded it as a symbol of humility, of gratitude, and of virgin innocence.

The north wind howls; the naked branches of the trees are powdered with hoar frost; the earth is covered by a white, uniform carpet; the tuneful birds are silent; the captive rivulet ceases to murmur. At this season, when all Nature appears dead, a delicate flower springs up amidst the snow, displaying to the astonished eye its ivory bells, embosoming a small green spot, as if marked by the pencil of Hope. In expanding its blossoms on the snow, this delicate flower seems to smile at the rigours of winter, and to say: -“Take courage; here I am to cheer you with the hope of milder weather!”



The stalk of this shrub is covered with a dry bark, which gives to it the appearance of dead wood. Nature, to hide this deformity, has encircled each of its sprays with a garland of red flowers, wreathed round them and terminating in a small tuft of leaves, in the manner of the pineapple. These flowers, which appear in the month of February, give out a peculiar and dangerous smell.

This shrub, clothed in its showy garb, appears amidst the snow like an imprudent and coquettish female, who, though shivering with cold, wears her spring attire in the depth of winter.



From the early bloom of this flower, it is called by Linneus, the father of the modern system of botany, Primula Veris— the firstling of Spring. The Auricula, Polyanthus, and Cowslip, belong to this family.

The Primrose was anciently called Paralisos, the name of a beautiful youth, who died of grief for the loss of his betrothed Melicerta, and was metamorphosed by his parents into this flower, which has since divided the favour of the poets with the Violet and the Rose.

Beneath the sylvan canopy, the ground
Glitters with flowery dyes; the Primrose first,
In mossy dell, return of Spring to greet.

The Primrose pale is Nature's meek and modest child.

The Primrose, tenant of the glade,
Emblem of virtue in the shade.


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