Are like thee, young Regret.
—GEORGE EDWARD WOODBERRY.
Over the hilltop and down in the meadow-grass
Heaven, like dew, on the waking earth lies;
Part of it, dear, is the blue of these violets—
Best of it all I find in your eyes.
—WILLIS BOYD ALLEN.
Far back where the April violets grew
There smiled, amid crystals of deathless dew,
Our first and last Arcadia.