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  • By Jeffrey Essmann

The Snowdrop



One winter day I wandered

Alone inside a park

With thoughts of how I’d squandered The light in me for dark

In wayward years gone by.

And though that time’s behind me,

It still can draw a sigh.


Still brooding, I considered

The world and all its pain;

How hope by hope it’s withered

Till little else remains

Beyond its empty greed.

We sense in us a mourning

Whose tears we can’t concede.


And then, though nearly hidden

A snowdrop caught my eye,

So sweet and so unbidden

As there it beautified

Its dirtied patch of snow.

It claimed a tiny victory

Whose terms I still don’t know.


Jeffrey Essman's poetry has appeared in numerous magazines and literary journals, print and online, among them Dappled Things, America Magazine, the St. Austin Review, U.S. Catholic, Pensive, the Society of Classical Poets, and various venues of the Benedictine monastery where he serves as an oblate. He is also editor of the Catholic Poetry Room page on the Integrated Catholic Life website.

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