VIOLETS! -- deep-blue violets! April's loveliest coronets! There are no flowers grow in the vale, Kiss'd by the dew, woo'd by the gale, -- None by the dew of the twilight wet, So sweet as the deep-blue violet! I do remember how sweet a breath Came with the azure light of a wreath That hung round the wild harp's golden chords, Which rang to my dark-eyed lover's words. I have seen that dear harp roll'd With gems of the East and bands of gold; But it never was sweeter than when set With leaves of the deep-blue violet! And when the grave shall open for me, -- I care not how soon that time may be, -- Never a rose shall grow on that tomb, It breathes too much of hope and of bloom; But there be that flower's meek regret, The bending and deep-blue violet! |