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Floral Poetry . 
THE VIOLET. 
W HY 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 seemed half undone. 
The broad leaves spread, the small buds grew, 
How slow they seemed to be ! 
At last there came a tinge of blue, 
’Twas worth the world to me ! 
