The Snowdrop.
By John Clare
Sweet type of innocence, snow-clothed blossom, Seemly, though vainly, bowing down to shun The storm hard-beating on thy wan white bosom, Left in the swail, and little cheer'd by sun; Resembling that frail jewel, just begun To ope on vice's eye its witcheries blooming, Midst all its storms, with little room to shun-- Ah, thou art winter's snowdrop, lovely Woman! In this world dropt, where every evil's glooming With killing tempests o'er its tender prey, Watching the opening of thy beauties coming, Its every infant charm to snatch away: Then come the sorrows thou'rt too weak to brave, And then thy beauty-cheek digs ruin's early grave.
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"Sweet type of innocence, snow-clothed blossom,..."
This evocative piece by John Clare, titled "The Snowdrop.", represents a masterful exploration of classic. The lines capture a profound emotional resonance... ### Why We Love This Line At Linespedia, we believe that poetry is the ultimate sanctuary for the soul...