Violet!—deep-blue violets!
April’s loveliest coronets!
There are no flowers grown in the vale,
Kissed by the sun, woo’d by the gale,
None with the dew of the twilight wet
So sweet as the deep-blue violet!
I do remember how sweet a breath,
Came with the azure light of a wreath,
That hung round the wild harp’s golden chords,
That rung to my dark-eyed lover’s words;