Snowdrops on Mary Webb’s grave in the old part of Shrewsbury cemetery, Longden Road.
Thanks to local members, Nigel and Sue Hotchkiss for tidying up the grave, adding fresh flowers and taking photographs. The grave is usually tended by society members on a rota basis, but current travel restrictions make this difficult at the moment.
Three softly curved white sepals veined with light,
Three green-lined petals, guarding frugal gold.
And all so strong to fold or to unfold!
Snow thunders from the bending pines. How slight
This frail, sheathed stem! Yet all unbent it springs,
So swift in stoopings and recoverings.
In the pale sunshine, with frail wings unfurled,
Comes to the bending snowdrop the first bee.
She gives her winter honey prudently;
And faint with travel in a bitter world,
The bee makes music, tentative and low,
And spring awakes and laughs across the snow.