Part 11 (2/2)

--NATHANIEL P. WILLIS.

CHAPTER EIGHT

Violets, faint with love's perfume, Lie hid in tall green gra.s.ses.

--MARY E. BLAKE.

CHAPTER EIGHT

The violet, she is faint with heat-- The lily is all forlorn; My love, arise, with thy dewy eyes, Arise, and be their morn!

--ALICE CARY.

Grow greener, gra.s.s, where the river flows-- Her feet have pressed you; Blow fresher, violet! lily! rose!

Her eyes have blessed you.

--CHARLES MACKAY.

Violets make the airs that pa.s.s Telltales of their fragrant slope.

--BAYARD TAYLOR.

Sich a rainy season A-comin' by-an'-by; But Sun will play de hide-an'-seek Yander in the sky.

Lily'll look so lonesome-- Violet hide his eye; But de skies will do yo' weepin', So, honey, don't you cry!

W'en der rain is over, Violet dress in blue; Red rose say: ”I sweet terday-- An' here's a kiss fer you!”

--FRANK L. STANTON.

Shadows, like the violets tangled, Like the soft light, softly mingled.

--ALICE CARY.

When violets pranked the turf with blue, And morning filled their cups with dew.

--OLIVER WENDELL HOLMES.

Came one by one the seasons, meetly drest.

First Spring--upon whose head a wreath was set Of wind-flowers and the yellow violet-- Advanced. Then Summer led his loveliest Of months, one ever to the minstrel dear (Her sweet eyes dewy wet), June, and her sisters, whose brown hands entwine The brier-rose and the bee-haunted columbine.

--EDMUND CLARENCE STEDMAN.

Oh, not more sweet the tears Of the dewy eve on the violet shed, Than the dews of age on the h.o.a.ry head When it enters the eve of years.

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