You are a snowdrop; sweet but will You look upon the daffodil That in a careless hand has lain So long, it cannot drink the rain And be renewed, or by the sun Find that unkindly grasp undone? You are a snowdrop: put your white By this spoiled gold, dear heart, to-night: Touch leaves with this less happy flower Undone by some too unhappy hour. You might have been the daffodil If I had kissed your prudence still. |