I had no thought of violets of late, The wild, shy kind that spring beneath your feet In wistful April days, when lovers mate And wander through the fields in raptures sweet. And thought of violets meant florists' shops, And bows and pins, and perfumed papers fine; And garish lights, and mincing little fops And cabarets and songs, and deadening wine. So far from sweet real things my thoughts had strayed, I had forgot wide fields, and clear brown streams; The perfect loveliness that God has made -- Wild violets shy and Heaven-mounting dreams. And now -- unwittingly, you've made me dream Of violets, and my soul's forgotten gleam. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE SONG MAKER by SARA TEASDALE THE DEAD PAN by ELIZABETH BARRETT BROWNING THE TWELVE-FORTY-FIVE (FOR EDWARD J. WHEELER) by ALFRED JOYCE KILMER SPRING IN NEW ENGLAND by THOMAS BAILEY ALDRICH DEJECTION by ANNA LETITIA BARBAULD THOMAS GRAY by ARTHUR CHRISTOPHER BENSON |