The violet sweet and lily fair,
The dappled pink and blushing rose,
To deck my charming Chloe’s hair.
—MATTHEW PRIOR.
’Twas a child
In whose large eyes of blue there shone, indeed,
Something to waken wonder. Never sky
In noontide depth, or softly breaking dawn—
Never the dew in new-born violet’s cup,
Lay so entranced in purity.