THE BLUE VIOLET. 
215 
ILLUSTRATION OR THE SENTIMENT. 
A woman’s love, deep in the heart, 
Is like the violet flower, 
That lifts its modest head apart, 
In some sequester’d bower. 
And blest is he who finds that bloom, 
Who sips its gentle sweets; 
He heeds not life’s oppressive gloom, 
Nor all the care he meets. 
A woman’s love is like the rock 
That every tempest braves, 
And stands secure amidst the shock 
Of ocean’s wildest waves; 
And blest is he to whom repose 
Within its shade is given; 
The world, with all its cares and woes, 
Seems less like earth than heaven. 
Anon. 
