comes and cuts it down. Bryant 

 extols this violet in a pretty poem : 



" When beechen buds begin to swell, 



And woods the bluebird's warble know, 

 The yellow violet's modest bell 



Peeps from the last year's leaves below. 



" Ere russet fields their green resume, 

 Sweet flower. I love, in forest bare 

 To meet thee, when thy faint perfume 

 Alone is in the virgin air. 



" Of all her train, the hands of Spring 

 First plant thee in the watery mould, 

 And I have seen thee blossoming 

 Beside the snow-bank's edges cold. 



" Thy parent sun, who bade thee view 

 Pale skies, and chilMng moisture sip, 

 Has bathed thee in his own bright hue 

 And streaked with jet thy glowing lip. 



" Yet slight thy form, and low thy seat, 

 And earthward bent thy gentle eye, 

 Unapt the passing view to meet. 

 When loftier flowers are flaunting nigh . 



" Oft in the sunless April day 



Thy early smile has stayed my walk, 



But midst the gorgeous blooms of May 



I passed thee on thy humble stalk. 



54 



