THE POETRY OF FLOWERS. 147 
THE VIOLET* 
3Y G. J. CLARKE. 
When April’s warmth unlocks the clod, 
Soften’d by gentle showers, 
The violet pierces through the sod, 
And blossoms, first of flowers ; 
So may I give my heart to God 
I n childhood’s early hours. 
Some plants, in gardens only found, 
Are raised with pains and care: 
God scatters violets all around, 
They blossom every where; 
Thus may my love to all abound, 
And all my fragrance share. 
Some scentless flowers stand straight and high 
With pride and haughtiness: 
But violets perfume land and sky, 
Although they promise less. 
Let me, with all humility, 
Do more than I profess. 
• Written for a little girl to speak on May-day, la 
iiie character of tile Violet. 
