Under the Ground in a million places Bulbs are hiding their little brown faces, Putting out roots to hold themselves tight, Working away in the long winter night The snow comes down, and it softy makes A blanket warm of its feathery flakes. On the ground it lies, and cosy and sung The brown bulbs cuddle beneath their rug. The sun shines out and the melting snow Trickles away in the earth below, And the bulbs reach out with their roots of white and drink up their blanket in great delight. Soon, when the sun sends fingers warm Down in the earth to each bulb and corm, Little green spears will push up to see What sort of a place the world can be And then all the treasure of purple and gold, of yellow and blue that the brown bulbs hold Is spread in the sun and crocuses shine And snowdrops scyllas and daffies are mine.
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