They came from God’s own bowers,
And the earth was full of their wandering,
For they both were sowing flowers.
“I sow,” said Spring, “by the stream and the wood,
And the village children know
The gay glad time of my own sweet prime,
And where my blossoms grow.
“There is not a spot in the quiet wood
But hath heard the sound of my feet,
And the violets come from their solitude