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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=419104" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>Withered Snowdrops</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">THEY came in the early spring-days, <br>With the first refreshing showers <br>And I watched the growing beauty <br>Of the little drooping flowers.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">They had no bright hues to charm me,<br>No gay painting to allure; <br>But they made me think of angels, <br>They were all so white and pure.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">In the early morns I saw them, <br>Dew-drops clinging to each bell. <br>And the first glad sunbeam hasting <br>Just to kiss them ere they fell. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">Daily grew their spotless beauty;<br>But I feared when chill winds blew <br>They were all too frail and tender,— <br>And alas! my fears were true.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">One glad morn I went to see them<br>While the bright drops gemmed their snow, <br>And one angel flower was withered,<br>Its fair petals drooping low.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Its white sister's tears fell on it, <br>And the sunbeam sadly shone: <br>For its innocence was withered, <br>And its purity was gone. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">Still I left it there: I could not<br>Tear it rudely from its place; <br>It might rise again, and summer <br>Might restore its vanished grace.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">But my hopes grew weaker, weaker,<br>And my heart with grief was pained <br>When I knew it must be severed <br>From the innocence it stained.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">I must take it from the pure ones:<br>Henceforth they must live apart. <br>But I could not cut my flow'ret— <br>My lost angel—from my heart.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Oft I think of that dead snowdrop,<br>Think with sorrow, when I meet, <br>Day by day. the poor lost flowers,— <br>Sullied snowdrops of the street.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">They were pure once, loved and loving.<br>And there still lives good within. <br>Ah! speak gently to them: harsh words <br>Will not lead them from their sin.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">They are not like withered flowers<br>That can never bloom again: <br>They can rise, bright angel snowdrops, <br>Purified from every stain.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=John+Boyle+O%27Reilly">John Boyle O'Reilly</a><div class=q>
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<script type="text/javascript" src="//s7.addthis.com/js/300/addthis_widget.js#pubid=citatepedia" async="async"></script><div style="display:inline-block" class="addthis_sharing_toolbox" data-url="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=419104" data-title="Withered Snowdrops de John Boyle O'Reilly" data-description="THEY came in the early spring-days, 
With the first refreshing showers 
And I watched the growing beauty 
Of the little drooping flowers.

They had no bright hues to charm me,
No gay painting to allure; 
But they made me think of angels, 
They wer..."></div>
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