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 His Frolic Peers; Nor Will I Then Thy Modest Grace Forget, Chaste Snowdrop, Venturous Harbinger Of Spring, And Pensive Monitor Of Fleeting Years!