Christina Rossetti — Who hath despised the day of small things?

As violets so be I recluse and sweet, Cheerful as daisies unaccounted rare, Still sunward-gazing from a lowly seat, Still sweetening wintry air. While half-awakened Spring lags incomplete, While lofty forest trees tower bleak and bare, Daisies and violets own remotest heat And bloom and make them fair.