BLUE EYES.
Violets, violets, blossoming low,
Shadowy grasses under;
Blue, blue eyes,
Up at the skies
Peering, as if in wonder.
What tho’ the garden with bloom be sweet,
Its mantle the wood renewing;
And the birdlings glad
Be rollicking mad
And musical in their wooing;
What tho’ the streamlet softly flow,
Murmuring, laughing, grieving,
And the livelong day
The zephyr gay
Story and rhyme be weaving;
Never the spring-time hath been complete
Till, the long grasses under,
I find blue eyes
Up at the skies
Peering, as if in wonder.