Part 4 (2/2)
--SIDNEY LANIER.
On sheltered banks, beneath the dripping eaves, Spring's earliest nurselings spread their glowing leaves, Bright with the hues from wider pictures won, White, azure, golden,--drift, or sky, or sun;-- The snowdrop, bearing on her patient breast The frozen trophy torn from winter's crest; The violet, gazing on the arch of blue Till her own iris wears its deepened hue; The spendthrift crocus, bursting through the mould, Naked and s.h.i.+vering with his cup of gold.
--OLIVER WENDELL HOLMES.
The meadow your walks have left so sweet That wherever a March wind sighs, He sets the jewel-print of your feet In violets blue as your eyes.
--ALFRED TENNYSON.
The warring hosts of Winter and of Spring Are hurtling o'er the plains.
All night I heard their battle clarions ring And jar the window-panes.
The saddened robins flit through leafless trees, And chirp with tuneless voice, And wait the conquering sun, the unbinding breeze; They cannot yet rejoice.
Slowly the victor Spring her foe outflanks, And countermines his snows; Then, unawares, along the gra.s.sy banks, Her ambushed violets throws.
--CHRISTOPHER P. CRANCH.
Knowledge this man prizes best Seems fantastic to the rest: Pondering shadows, colors, clouds, Gra.s.s-buds and caterpillar shrouds, Boughs on which the wild bees settle, Tints that spot the violet's petal.
--RALPH WALDO EMERSON.
But who hath breathed the scent of violets And not that moment been some lover glad?
--ARLO BATES.
What blooms here, Filling the honeyed atmosphere With faint, delicious fragrances, Freighted with blessed memories?
The earliest March violet, Dear as the image of Regret, And beautiful as Hope.
--EMMA LAZARUS.
Violets and bilberry bells, Maple-sap and daffodels, Gra.s.s with green flag half-mast high.
--RALPH WALDO EMERSON.
Pit, pat, patter, clatter, Sudden sun, and clatter, patter!
First the blue and then the shower; Bursting bud and smiling flower; Brooks set free with tinkling ring; Birds too full of song to sing; Crisp old leaves astir with pride, Where the timid violets hide: All things ready with a will-- April's coming up the hill!
--MARY MAPES DODGE.
Violets suit when homebirds build and sing.
--CHRISTINA ROSSETTI.
Radiant Sister of the Day, Awake, arise, and come away To the wild woods and the plains; To the pools where winter rains Image all their roof of leaves; Where the pine its garland weaves, Of sapless green and ivy dim, Round stems that never kiss the sun; Where the lawns and pastures be, And the sand-hills of the sea; Where the melting h.o.a.r-frost wets The daisy-star that never sets; And wind-flowers and violets, Which yet join not scent to hue, Crown the pale year, weak and new.
--PERCY BYSSHE Sh.e.l.lEY.
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