The rose, the violet,—one day
See! both these lady-flowers decay:
You must fade as well as they.
—ROBERT HERRICK.
Once thy lip, to touch it only,
To my soul has sent a thrill
Sweeter than the violet lonely
Plucked in March-time by the rill.
—JOHANN WOLFGANG VON GOETHE.
Blow, violets, blow!