At length the perfume fill’d the room. 
Shed from the purple wreath ; 
No flower has now so rich a bloom, 
Has now so sweet a breath. 
I gather’d two or three,— they seem’d 
Such rich gifts to bestow,— 
So precious in my sight, I deem’d 
That all must think them so. 
Ah! who is there but would be fain 
To be a child once more, 
If future years could bring again 
All that they brought before? 
My heart’s world has been long o'erthrown, 
It is no more of flowers ; — 
Their bloom is past, their breath is flown, 
Yet I recall those hours. 
Let Nature spread her loveliest, 
By spring or summer nurst; 
Yet still I love the Violet best, 
Because I loved it first. 
