The first flowers of Spring

Snowdrops:

With hanging heads they stood so still,
They'd surfaced with a dormant will,
And in the rain they shod a tear,
That took away the stains of fear.

What meaning had their presence there?
What purpose, poignance or desire?
If not to fill my heart with care,
For that to which I should aspire.

But blessed with hope from seeing them,
My heart began to reconcile,
For every  bloom and every stem,
Had made my life once more worthwhile.