University of Virginia Library

VIOLETS.

Oh! the Violets—the Violets throw
Around their own imperial glow,
Like sweet Stars that so long did move
In the deep sapphire Heavens above,
That all those Heaven's rich colourings met,
Within their smiles of Beauty set!—
That all the Sky's triumphal blue,
Shone gathering in their glorious hue!
The Violets—the Violets throw
Around their own imperial glow
Of queenly purple, full and deep—
Where they brood in odorous heap;
And like they are to stars of light,
That long, Oh! long serene and bright
Have moved in yon cerulean Skies,
Till thence they caught e'en all their dyes—
Till that sapphire world's hues met
All in crowning fulness set,
In their deep rich flowery smiles,
Which nought of this dull earth defiles!
The violets!—Oh! how they throw
Around their own imperial glow
Their purple light of richest dye,
Paving Earth with smiles of Sky!
But more we bless them for the scent
Wherewith Air's common element
They do enrich so much and well,
More than cunning phrase may tell,
That burthened Air seems, breath by breath,
To languish in a costly death,
Beneath that odour's tender weight,
A delicate yet cumbering freight!
That odour which, profound and rare,
Luxuriates here and every where!
Who of your beauty thinks, Sweet Flowers!—
Endowed with almost magic powers,
Though beautiful ye are indeed—
But e'en the lowliest, homeliest weed,
Of form uncouth and pallid dyes,
Were beauteous in our partial eyes,
With such an incense-breath intense
As yours, that thrills the quickened sense—
That pierces and that penetrates
Unto that sense it never sates!—
Unto the Soul itself—that lives
A Life that outward Nature gives,
Still fluctuating to her fine mood,
With many a kindred sense endued,
Beside that inner life profound,
Without a fetter or a bound;
That to nought outward ever may
Vary or veer from day to day!
(Fixed in itself for ever more—
A mighty sea without a shore—
A life that doth sublimely seem
One glorious current, one deep stream,
Uninterrupted in its course,
And springing from the highest source!)
Oh! Nature, with thee we owe,
While yet we wander here below,
A life of purest consciousness,
Which mild emotions sweetly bless;
Though mild yet deep—and full of power
To colour every passing hour.
To make a lovely life apart,
Even of the dreaming, feeling heart!