CHAPTER FOUR
The lone violet, which for love"s own sake, Its life exhales in pure unconscious good.
--FRANCES L. MACE.
CHAPTER FOUR
In my breast Spring wakens too; and my regret Becomes an April violet, And buds and blossoms like the rest.
--ALFRED TENNYSON.
Deep violets you liken to The kindest eyes that look on you Without a thought disloyal.
--ELIZABETH BARRETT BROWNING.
To thee the nymphs of the forest offer their store of lilies, And at thy feet fair Nais lays her violets pale.
--VIRGIL.
The wind sprang up in the tree-tops And shrieked with a voice of death, But the rough-voiced breeze, that shook the trees, Was touched with a violet"s breath.
--PAUL LAURENCE DUNBAR.
One morn a lad cried in the street, "Fresh violets!" and, as in answer sweet, A bluebird flung, bouquet-like, clear and strong, Athwart the misty window, his first song.
--WILLIAM STRUTHERS.
The April morn Climbs softly up the eastern sky, And glimmers through the milk-white thorn, Or dances where the violets lie.
--SAMUEL MINTURN PECK.
April violets glow In wayside nooks, close cl.u.s.tering into groups, Like shy elves hiding from the traveler"s eye.
--THOMAS BUCHANAN READ.
Violets begin to blush; Speedwell opens too her eye And the kingcup wooes the sky.
--EDWARD CAPERN.
It isn"t raining rain to me, but fields of clover bloom, Where any buccaneering bee can find a bed and room; A health unto the happy, and a fig for him who frets!
It isn"t raining rain to me, it"s raining violets.
--ANONYMOUS.
She walked across the fields icebound, Like some shy, sunny hint of spring, And stooping suddenly she found A violet, a dainty thing, Which shunned the chilly light of day Until sweet Aprille came that way.
--HARRISON ROBERTSON.
The violet trills, through the bluebird, Of the heaven that within her she feels.
--LUCY LARCOM.
Like those same winds when, startled from their lair, They hunt up violets, and free swift brooks From icy caves, even as thy clear looks Bid my heart bloom, and sing, and break all care.
--JAMES RUSSELL LOWELL.
And now the other violets are crowding up to see What welcome in this bl.u.s.tering world may chance for them to be.
They lift themselves on slender stems in every shaded place, Heads over heads, all turned one way, wonder in every face.
--LUCY LARCOM.
It is April, crying sore and weeping O"er the chilly earth so brown and bare.
"When I went away," she murmurs, sobbing, "All my violet banks were starred with blue; Who, O who has been here, basely robbing Bloom and odor from the fragrant crew?"
Thus she plaineth. Then ten million voices Tiny, murmurous, like drops of rain, Raised in song as when the wind rejoices, Ring the answer, "We are here again!"
--SARAH CHANNING WOOLSEY.
Now fades the last long streak of snow, Now bourgeons every maze of quick About the flowering squares, and thick By ashen roots the violets grow.
--ALFRED TENNYSON.
Violets now, that strew The green lap of the new-come spring.
--WILLIAM SHAKSPEARE.
Elder boughs were budding yet, Oaken boughs looked wintry still, But primrose and veined violet In the mossful turf were set, While mating birds made haste to sing And build with right good-will.
--CHRISTINA ROSSETTI.
Violets, Which April ne"er forgets!
--EMILY S. OAKEY.
Sweetly breathing, vernal air, That with kind warmth doth repair Winter"s ruins; from whose breast All the gums and spice o" the East Borrow their perfumes; whose eye Gilds the morn, and clears the sky; Whose disheveled tresses shed Pearls upon the violet bed.
--THOMAS CAREW.
A wealth of clover clothes the place Where, clad in buff-lined coats of blue, Our countrymen o"erthrew Their alien foe; and violets efface All signs of combat.
--D. CHAUNCEY BREWER.
Down through the sunshine Wings flutter and fly;-- Quick, little violet, Open your eye!
--LUCY LARCOM.