A primrose, ever sweet to view,
Beside a lovely Snow-drop grew.
They were the boasted pride of Spring,
Fann’d by the zephyr’s balmy wing;
Each thought itself the choicest flower
That ever drank the spangled shower;
And vied for beauty, fought for praise,
Beneath the sun’s resplendent rays.
At length the Snow-drop, fraught with ire,
Began to vent its jealous fire.