A SIGN OF SPRING by EFFIE WALLER SMITH

As I was walking in mid March
By a flowing brooklet's side,
Half hid in the brown dead leaves
One little blossom I spied.

There was snow upon the ground,
And some ice was in the brook;
But this flower was blooming sweetly
In an icy, shaded nook.

And there was not, no, there was not,
Anywhere else to be seen
Another blossom, not even
One single sprig of fresh green.

Well, I'll tell you, for I'm thinking
That you really want to know
What flower it was, that struggled
'Gainst wintry sleet and snow.

'Twas just an hepatica,
Faintly tinged with pink,
And I'm going to tell about it,
Just exactly what I think;

That it must have clean forgotten
That the weather was so cold,
Ere its little velvet petals
It shyly tried to unfold.

Or perhaps it bloomed on purpose
To tell me Spring was near;
And it may be, - yes, I'm certain -
Early Spring's already here!

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