University of Virginia Library

BEFORE AND AFTER FLOWERING.

BEFORE.

First Violet.
Lo here! how warm and dark and still it is;
Sister, lean close to me, that we may kiss.
Here we go rising, rising—know'st thou where?

Second Violet.
Indeed I cannot tell, nor do I care,
It is so warm and pleasant here. But hark!
What strangest sound was that above the dark?

First Violet.
As if our sisters all together sang,—
Seemed it not so?

Second Violet.
More loud than that it rang;
And louder still it rings, and seems more near.
Oh, I am shaken through and through with fear—
Now in some deadly grip I seemed confined!
Farewell, my sister! Rise, and follow, and find!

First Violet.
From how far off those last words seemed to fall!
Gone where she will not answer when I call!
How lost? how gone? Alas! this sound above me,—
“Poor little Violet, left with none to love thee!”
And now, it seems, I break against that sound!
What bitter pain is this that binds me round,
This pain I press into! Where have I come?

AFTER.

A Crocus.
Welcome, dear sisters, to our fairy home!
They call this Garden; and the time is Spring.
Like you I have felt the pain of flowering;
But, oh, the wonder and the deep delight
It was to stand here, in the broad sunlight,
And feel the Wind flow round me cool and kind;
To hear the singing of the leaves the Wind
Goes hurrying through; to see the mighty Trees,
Where every day the blossoming buds increase.
At evening, when the shining Sun goes in,
The gentler lights look down, and dews begin,
And all is still, beneath the quiet sky,
Save sometimes for the Wind's low lullaby.

First Tree.
Poor little flowers!

Second Tree.
What would you prate of, now?

First Tree.
They have not heard; I will keep still. Speak low.

First Violet.
The Trees bend to each other lovingly.

Crocus.
Daily they whisper of fair things to be.
Great talk they make about the coming Rose,
The very fairest flower, they say, that blows!
Such scent she hath; her leaves are red, they say,
And fold her round in some divine, sweet way.

First Violet.
Would she were come, that for ourselves we might
Have pleasure in this wonder of delight!

Crocus.
Here comes the laughing, dancing, hurrying rain;
How all the Trees laugh at the Wind's light strain!

First Violet.
We are so near the earth, the Wind goes by
And hurts us not; but if we stood up high,
Like Trees, then should we soon be blown away.

Second Violet.
Nay; were it so, we should be strong as they.

Crocus.
I often think how nice to be a Tree;
Why, sometimes in their boughs the Stars I see.

First Violet.
Have you seen that?

Crocus.
I have, and so shall you
But hush! I feel the coming of the dew.

NIGHT.

Second Violet.
How bright it is! the Trees, how still they are!

Crocus.
I never saw before so bright a Star
As that which stands and shines just over us.

First Violet
(after a pause).
My leaves feel strange and very tremulous.

Crocus and Second Violet together.
And mine, and mine!

First Violet.
O warm, kind Sun, appear!

Crocus.
I would the Stars were gone, and day were here!

JUST BEFORE DAWN.

First Violet.
Sister! No, answer, sister? Why so still?

One Tree to Another.
Poor little Violet, calling through the chill
Of this new frost which did her sister slay,
In which she must herself, too, pass away!
Nay, pretty Violet, be not so dismayed;
Sleep only, on your sister sweet, is laid.

First Violet.
No pleasant Wind about the garden goes,
Perchance the Wind has gone to bring the Rose.
O sister! surely now your sleep is done.
I would we had not looked upon the Sun.
My leaves are stiff with pain. O cruel night!
And through my root some sharp thing seems to bite.
Ah me! what pain, what coming change is this?

(She dies.)
First Tree.
So endeth many a Violet's dream of bliss.