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The Snowdrop

The Snowdrop

The snowdrop, Winter's timid child,

Awakes to life, bedew'd with tears;

And flings around its fragrance mild,

And where no rival flow'rets bloom,

Amid the bare and chilling gloom,

A beauteous gem appears!

All weak and wan, with head inclined,

Its parent breast the drifted snow;

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by Mary Darby Robinson

London's Summer Morning

London's Summer Morning

Who has not waked to list the busy sounds

Of summer's morning, in the sultry smoke

Of noisy London? On the pavement hot

The sooty chimney-boy, with dingy face

And tatter'd covering, shrilly bawls his trade,

Rousing the sleepy housemaid. At the door

The milk-pail rattles, and the tinkling bell

Proclaims the dustman's office; while the street

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by Mary Darby Robinson