Lone flower, hemmed in with snows, and white as they

But hardier far, once more I see thee bend

 Thy forehead as if fearful to offend,

 Like an unbidden guest. Though day by day

 Storms, sallying from the mountain-tops, waylay

 The rising sun, and on the plains descend;

 Yet art thou welcome, welcome as a friend

 Whose zeal outruns his promise! Blue-eyed May

Shall soon behold this border thickly set

With bright jonquils, their odours lavishing

 On the soft west-wind and its frolic peers;

 Nor will I then thy modest grace forget,

 Chaste snowdrop, venturous harbinger of Spring,

 And pensive monitor of fleeting years!

– Wordsworth