238 
THE LOVER’S OFFERING, 
The tongue that erst was spoken by the elves, 
When tenderness as yet within the world was 
new. 
And oh, do not their soft and starry eyes— 
Now bent to earth, to heaven now meekly plead¬ 
ing, 
Their incense fainting as it seeks the skies, 
Yet still from earth with freshening hope rece¬ 
ding— 
Say, do not these to every heart declare, 
With all the silent eloquence of truth, 
The language that they speak is Nature’s prayer 
To give her back those spotless days of youth ? 
Hoffman. 
TO A VIOLET. 
Sweet flower! Spring’s earliest, loveliest gem! 
While other flowers are idly sleeping, 
Thou rear’st thy purple diadem; 
Meekly from thy seclusion peeping. 
Thou, from thy little secret mound, 
Where diamond dew-drops shine above thee, 
Scatterest thy modest fragrance round; 
And well may Nature’s Poet love thee! 
