VIOLET. 87 



THE VIOLET. 



MISS LANDON. 



Why better than the lady rose, 



Love I this little flower? 

 Because its fragrant leaves are those 



I loved in childhood's hour. 



Though many a flower may win my praise, 



The Violet has my love; 

 I did not pass my childish days 



In garden or in grove: 



My garden was the window-seat, 



Upon whose edge was set 

 A little vase, — the fair, the sweet,— 



It was the Violet. 



It was my pleasure and my pride : — 



How I did watch its growth ! 

 For health and bloom what plans I tried, 



And often injured both. 



I placed it in the summer shower, 



I placed it in the sun ; 

 And ever, at the evening hour, 



My work seem'd half undone. 



The broad leaves spread, the small buds grew , > 



How slow they seem'd to be : 

 At last there came a tinge of blue, — 



'Twas worth the world to me. 



