These violets, within them worn,
Of floral fays shall make you queen.
—EDMUND CLARENCE STEDMAN.
O faint, delicious, springtime violet!
Thine odor, like a key,
Turns noiselessly in memory’s wards to let
A thought of sorrow free.
—WILLIAM W. STORY.
The violet, Spring’s little infant, stands
Girt in thy purple swaddling-bands;