Explore "To a February Primrose" by George MacDonald on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
I know not what among the grass thou art, / Thy nature, nor thy substance, fairest flower, / Nor what to other eyes thou hast of power / To send thine image through them to the heart; / But when I push the frosty leaves apart / And see thee hiding in thy wintry bower / Thou growest up within me from that hour, / And through the snow I with the spring depart.
I have no words. But fragrant is the breath, / Pale beauty, of thy second life within.
There is a wind that cometh for thy death, / But thou a life immortal dost begin, / Where in one soul, which is thy heaven, shall dwell / Thy spirit, beautiful Unspeakable!