The Violet Book Part 10

Soft-throated South, breathing of summer's ease, Sweet breath, whereof the violet's life is made!

--GEORGE PARSONS LATHROP.

I heard the laughter of a brook, A tiny brook, that babbled through The fields and told the tales it took Of bird and reed and water-thing; And stooping low I saw a gleam Of violets that nodded to Their gay reflection in the stream.

--MARY F. FAXON.

More shy than the shy violet Hiding when the wind doth pa.s.s.

--ELLEN M. CORTISSOZ.

The ferns bend low, the gra.s.ses lean, As doing homage to a queen, The fairest queens that ever smiled On cavalier, or king beguiled: Oh, sweet and tender violets!

--M. D. TOLMAN.

I go to the river there below Where in bunches the violets grow, And sun and shadow meet.

--HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW.

Beneath Peep the blue violets out of black loam.

--RALPH WALDO EMERSON.

The violet varies from the lily as far As oak from elm.

--ALFRED, LORD TENNYSON.

Lover of each gracious thing Which makes glad the summer-tide, From the daisies cl.u.s.tering And the violets, purple-eyed, To those shy and hidden blooms Which in forest coverts stay.

--ANONYMOUS.

I thread the rustling ranks, that hide Their misty violet treasure.

--BAYARD TAYLOR.

But when the green world buds to blossoming, Keep violets for the spring, and love for youth, Love that should dwell with beauty, mirth and hope: Or if a later, sadder love be born, Let this not look for grace beyond its scope, But give itself.

--CHRISTINA ROSSETTI.

And now, when summer south-winds blow And brier and harebell bloom again, I tread the pleasant paths we trod, I see the violet-sprinkled sod Whereon she leaned.

--JOHN GREENLEAF WHITTIER.

Sisters, ere the moon is set, Twine the white, white violet, While the dews are on it yet, With the myriad-starred mignonette.

--FORCEYTHE WILSON.

Voluptuous bloom and fragrance rare The summer to its rose may bring; Far sweeter to the wooing air The hidden violet of the spring.

--BAYARD TAYLOR.

And near the snow-drop's tender white and green, The violet in its screen.

--HENRY TIMROD.

Pale marguerites, that swayed with dainty grace To every breeze, the violet's sweet, shy face, And heart'sease, wonder-eyed.

--J. TORREY CAPEN.

Oh, those gardens dear and far, Where the wild wind-fairies are!

Though we see not, we can hearken To them when the spring skies darken, Singing clearly, singing purely, Songs of far-off Elfland surely, And they pluck the wild wind posies, Lilies, violets and roses.

--PHILIP BOURKE MARSTON.

Miss Violet displays no hood, Nor garbs herself as violets should-- She sports a witching hat; Nor is she found in dim retreat, But often on the crowded street Her boots go pit-a-pat.

--SAMUEL MINTURN PECK.

And give my simple thought the skill to know What interchanging hints between us pa.s.s; What sense of joy it is that thrills me so Whene'er I see blue violets in the gra.s.s.

--ISAAC B. CHOATE.

Here eglantine embalmed the air, Hawthorn and hazel mingled there; The primrose pale, and violet flower, Found in each cliff a narrow bower.

--SIR WALTER SCOTT.

It trembled off the keys,--a parting kiss So sweet,--the angel slept upon his sword As through the gate of Paradise we swept,-- Partakers of creation's primal bliss!

--The air was heavy with the breath Of violets and love till death-- Forgetful of eternal banishment, Deep down the dusk of pa.s.sion-haunted ways, Lost in the dreaming alchemies of tone, Drenched in the dew no other wings frequent, --Our thirsting hearts drank in the breath Of violets and love in death-- There was no world, no flesh, no boundary line-- Spirit to spirit--chord and dissonance, Beyond the jealousy of s.p.a.ce or time His life in one low cry broke over mine!

--The waking angel drew a shuddering breath Of violets and love and death.

--MARTHA GILBERT d.i.c.kINSON.

Bay leaves between And primroses green Embellish the sweet violet.

--EDMUND SPENSER.

Better to smell the violet cool Than sip the glowing wine; Better to hark a hidden brook Than watch a diamond shine.

--GEORGE MACDONALD.

Upon the water's velvet edge The purple blossoms breathe delight, Close nestled to the gra.s.sy sedge As sweet as dawn, as dark as night.

O brook and branches, far away, My heart keeps time with you today!

"The violets--the violets!"

--FRANCES L. MACE.

Call the crowfoot and the crocus, Call the pale anemone, Call the violet and the daisy, Clothed with careful modesty.

--PHBE CARY.