Alice MacDonald Kipling

“ The thrushes built their nests before the time,
And twittered cheerily the whole day long;
Buds grew to leaves, as if to shelter them.
February's skies had April's tender grace,
When lo! the fields were white, as if with snow,
And all the woods and gardens and hedgerows.
Single, in clusters, opened flower and bud,
The snowdrops bloomed: the world was white with them,
Half hidden in a snowstorm of snowdrops. ”