VIOLET. 
43 
And if they perish, perish with a sigh 
Delicious as that life. On the hot June 
They shed no perfume ; the flowers may remain. 
But the rich breathing of their leaves is past; 
Like woman, they have lost their loveliest gift 
When yielding to the fiery hour of passiom 
—The violet-breath of love is purity. 
A BOUQUET OF SPRING VIOLETS. 
SHELLEY. 
After the slumber of the year 
The woodland violets reappear ; 
All things revive in field and grove. 
And sea and sky ; but two, which move 
And form all others, life and love. 
A VIOLET BANK. 
SHAKSPEARE. 
I know a bank whereon the wild thyme blows, 
Where oxlips and the nodding violet grows : 
Quite over-canopied with lush woodbine, 
With sweet musk roses and with eglantine. 
THE VIOLET. 
FROM THE GERMAN OP GOETHE. 
A Violet blossom’d on the green. 
With lowly stem, and bloom unseen; 
