We all look forward to the snowdrops
The harbinger of spring
In many shades of white
Offtimes tinged with green
Beautiful, oh so beautiful
Sweeping swathes of green tinged white
But they shrink into nothingness
Against the aconite
Aconite of deepest gold
Brighter than the sun
Aconite the first to show
Amid deep winters gloom
When the aconite first does show
Bluetits start to flit and sing
You see it's not the snowdrop
Who is the harbinger of spring