The brier-rose and the bee-haunted columbine.
—EDMUND CLARENCE STEDMAN.
Oh, not more sweet the tears
Of the dewy eve on the violet shed,
Than the dews of age on the hoary head
When it enters the eve of years.
—ANONYMOUS.
’Twas violet time when he and she
Went roaming the meadows wide and free.
A happy lad and lass were they,