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VIOLET. 
Sweet Violets stay, till hardier flowers 
Prepare to meet the lovely May. 
Then from your mossy shelter come, 
And rival every richer bloom; 
For though their colours gayer shine, 
Their odours do not equal thine. 
And thus real merit still may dare to vie 
With all that wealth bestows, or pageant heraldry. 
TO A VIOLET. 
BOWRING. 
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 1 
Thine is a short, swift reign, I know; 
But here, thy spirit still pervading, 
New Violets’ tufts again shall blow, 
Then fade away — as thou art fading — 
And be renew’d; the hope how blest, 
(Oh may that hope desert me never!) — 
Like thee to sleep on Nature’s breast, 
And wake again, and bloom for ever! 
