54 THE LANGUAGE OF FLOWERS. 
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. 
A BOUQUET OF VIOLETS. 
LEIGH HUNT. 
We are violets blue, 
For our sweetness found 
Careless in the mossy shades, 
Looking on the ground. 
Love’s dropped eyelids and a kiss,— 
fjuch our breath and blueness is. 
So, the mild Shape, 
Hidden by love’s fears, 
Found us first i’ the sward, , when she 
For hunger stooped in tears. 
Wheresoe’er her lips she sets, 
Jove said, “be breaths called violets.” 
