NATIVE WILD FLOWERS 
The violet has ever been a favorite flower with the poets; 
from Shakespeare and Milton down to the present day we 
find mention of this lovely flower scattered through their 
verses. Nor are the old Italian poets silent in its praise. 
Luigi de Gonzaga, in stanzas addressed to his lady-love 
(Maria Mancini), says: 
‘But only violets shall twine 
Thy ebon tresses, lady mine.” 
Milton, in his sonnet to “Echo,” speaks of the “ violet 
embroidered vale.” 
Here are lines to early violets, after the manner of the 
old English poet, Herrick: 
Children of sweetest birth, 
Why do ye bend to earth 
Eyes in whose deepest blue 
Lies hid the diamond dew ? 
Has not the early ray 
Yet kissed those tears away 
That fell with closing day? 
Say, do ye fear to meet 
The hail and driving sleet 
Which gloomy winter stern 
Flings from his snow-wreathed urn? 
Or do ye fear the breeze, 
So sadly sighing thro’ the trees, 
Will chill your fragrant flowers 
*Ere April’s silv’ry showers 
Have visited your bowers? 
Why came ye till the Cuckoo’s voice 
Bade hill and dale rejoice ? 
Till Philomel, with tender tone 
Waking the echoes lone, 
Bade woodland glades prolong 
Her sweetly tuneful song ? 
Till Skylark blithe and Linnet grey, 
From fallow brown and meadow gay, 
Pour forth their jocund roundelay ? 
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