Soon as the frost will get out of my bed,
From this cold dungeon to free me,
I will peer up with my little bright head,
And all will be joyful to see me.
Then from my heart will young petals diverge,
As rays of the sun from their focus;
I from the darkness of earth shall emerge,
A happy and beautiful Crocus!
Many, perhaps, from so simple a flower,
This little lesson may borrow,
Patient today, through its gloomiest hour,
We come out the brighter tomorrow.
From this poem, I would associate the Crocus with hope.
Might add that i don’t like my crocuses to be too sharp. There is something very soft in the petals that needs to be valued. My opinion of course! thanks.