In my veins a music as of boughs
When the cool aspen-fingers of the rain
Feel for the eyelids of the earth in spring.
In every vein quick life; within my soul
The meekness of some sweet eternity
Forgot; and in my eyes soft violet-thoughts
That widen’d in the eye-ball to the light,
And peep’d, and trembled chilly back to the soul
Like leaves of violets closing.
—ROBERT BUCHANAN.