On Seeing a Tuft of Snowdrops in a Storm

William Wordsworth, 1770 – 1850

When haughty expectations prostrate lie,

And grandeur crouches like a guilty thing,

Oft shall the lowly weak, till nature bring

Mature release, in fair society

Survive, and Fortune’s utmost anger try;

Like these frail snow-drops that together cling,

And nod their helmets smitten by the wing

Of many a furious whirlblast sweeping by.

Observe the faithful flowers! if small to great

May lead the thoughts, thus struggling used to stand

The Emathian phalanx, nobly obstinate;

And so the bright immortal Theban band,

Whom onset, fiercely urged at Jove’s command,

Might overwhelm, but could not separate!

We don’t have wild snowdrops in the south, so maybe a spring Trillium will do. From Jarrod Gap near the AT. The odd, sort of hand-shaped, leaf just out of focus in the back is a bloodroot – a delicate spring flower with bright orange sap.