Of all the flowers rising now,
...Thou only saw'st the head
Of that unopen'd drop of snow
I placed beside thy bed.
In all the blooms that blow so fast,
...Thou hast no further part,
Save those the hour I saw thee last,
...I laid above thy heart.
Two snowdrops for our boy and girl,
...A primrose blown for me,
Wreathed with one often-play'd-with curl
...From each bright head for thee.
And so I graced thee for thy grave,
...And made these tokens fast
With that old silver heart I gave,
...My first gift--and my last.
William Philpot
