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,— 
Luch 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.” 
