As star-dust through the darkness dimly sown.
—MYRTLE REED.
Oh, North, or South, or East, or West,
The violet’s bloom is loveliest!
They come from out their coverts green,
The daintiest damsels ever seen,
Oh, pretty pets, the violets!
—M. D. TOLMAN.
To gild refinèd gold, to paint the lily,
To throw a perfume on the violet,