VIOLET. 
They open with the earliest breath of spring; 
Lead a sweet life of perfume, dew, and light, 
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 passion. 
—The violet-breath of love is purity. 
VIOLETS. 
BARTON. 
BeaPtiful are you in your lowliness ; 
Bright are your hues, delicious in your scent, 
Lovely your modest blossoms downward bent, 
As shrinking from our gaze, yet prompt to bless 
The passers-by with fragrance, and express 
How gracefully, though mutely, eloquent 
Are unobtrusive worth, and meek content, 
Rejoicing in their own obscure recess. 
Delightful flowerets ! at the voice of Spring 
Your buds unfolded to its sunbeams bright, 
And though your blossoms soon shall fade from sight, 
Above your lonely birthplace birds shall sing, 
And from your clustering leaves the glowworm fling 
The emerald glory of its earth-born light. 
A BOUQUET OF SPRING VIOLETS. 
SHELLEY. 
After the slumber of the year 
The woodland violets reappear ; 
