VIOLET, 
Look for me, Love. 
The May-day song of the Violets to the Children of New England. 
Hither! come hither! 
Come to the hills; 
Trip through the woodlands, 
Rest by the rills! 
Little ones, hasten, 
With laughter and song; 
Come with your tiny feet 
Glancing along! 
Breezes are blowing, 
Chill is the dew, 
Yet are we glowing 
Only for you. 
Softly we cluster, 
Sadly we sigh, 
Waiting the lustre 
Of some loving eye. 
Trace by the perfume 
That floats on the gale, 
Where we are hiding 
Down in the vale. 
Hiding from all the world, 
Drinking the dew, 
Hushing our timid hearts, 
Waiting for you! 
Playing “bo-peep,” 
With the breeze and beam, 
Bending to see ourselves 
Glassed in the stream. 
Little ones! hasten! 
With laughter and song, 
Come with your merry feet, 
Dancing along! 
Come to us, sing to us! 
Chill is the weather, 
Let us die on your hearts, 
Braided together! 
F. S. 0. 
