I went to hunt the scent of violet in the cold still of this winter day and found a sweet surprise – the seasons first snowdrop.
Close to the sod
There can be seen
A thought of God
In white and green.
Unmarred, unsoiled
It cleft the clay,
Serene, unspoiled
It views the day.
It is so holy
And yet so lowly.
Would you enjoy
Its grace and dower
And not destroy
The living flower?
Then you must, please,
Fall on your knees.
The Snowdrop by Anna Bunston De Bary
The Garden Times 