—EDMUND SPENSER.
The violet’s blue,
The rose bloom’s red,—and friends are tried and true;
The blossoms on the boughs are white in spring,
The wind is soft, the birds spread joyous wing,
And soar and wheel in the blue sky, and sing,
Because—because I love you.
—FRANCES HODGSON BURNETT.
In languid luxury soft she glides
Encircled by the azure tides,