VIOLET. 
129 
No flower lias now so rich a bloom. 
Has now so sweet a breath. 
I gathered two or three, — they seemed 
Such rich gifts to bestow ; 
So precious in my sight, I deemed 
That all must think them so. 
Ah ! who is there but would be fain 
To be a child once more; 
If future years could bring again 
All that they brought before. 
My heart’s world has been long o’erthrown. 
It is no more of flowers; 
Their bloom is past, their breath is flown, 
Yet I recal those hours. 
Let nature spread her loveliest. 
By spring or summer nurst; 
Yet still 1 love the violet best, 
Because 1 loved it first. 
SONG OF THE VIOLET. 
ANON. 
When the sun is gone down to his rest, 
And his glories no longer appear, 
Then the stars of the night 
