Down in my solitude under the snow,

where nothing cheering can reach me; 

here, without light to see how to grow,

I’ll trust to nature to teach me. 

*

I will not despair, nor be idle, nor frown,

Lock’d in so gloomy a dwelling;

my leaves shall run up, and my roots shall run down,

while the bud in my bosom is swelling.

*

Soon as the frost will get out of my bed,

from this cold dungeon to free me,

I will peer up with my little bright head;

all will be joyful to see me.

*

Then from my heart will young petals diverge,

as rays of the sun from their focus;

I from the darkness of earth will emerge,

a happy and beautiful crocus.

*

Gaily array’d in my yellow and green,

when to their view I have risen,

will they not wonder that one so serene

came from so dismal a prison?

*

Many, perhaps, from so simple a flower

his little lesson may borrow —

patient to-day, through its gloomiest hour, 

we come out the brighter tomorrow.

Hannah Flagg Gould.  EEUU (1789-1865)