⁠O snowdrops, do not rise,
⁠Because the happy eyes
That loved you once, now underneath you lie;
⁠Let not your buds appear,
⁠Each seems a frozen tear,
That never drops, and yet is never dry.

⁠Such useless tears they seem.
⁠As in a heavy dream,
We pour about our griefs to make them grow;
⁠When all the lights are pale,
⁠And all the cruses fail.
And all the flowers are underneath the snow.