The snowdrop and primrose our woodlands adorn,
And violets bathe in the wet o' the morn.
My Nannie's Awa'. R. BURNS.
A primrose by a river's brim
A yellow primrose was to him.
And it was nothing more.
Peter Bell. W. WORDSWORTH.
The loveliest flowers the closest cling to earth,
And they first feel the sun: so violets blue;
So the soft star-like primrose—drenched in dew—
The happiest of Spring's happy, fragrant birth.
Spring Showers. J. KEBLE.
Primrose-eyes each morning ope
In their cool, deep beds of grass;
Violets make the air that pass
Tell-tales of their fragrant slope.
Home and Travel: Ariel in the Cloven Pine. B. TAYLOR.
A spring upon whose brink the anemones
And hooded violets and shrinking ferns
And tremulous woodland things crowd unafraid,
Sure of the refreshing that they always find.
Unvisited. M.J. PRESTON.
The modest, lowly violet,
In leaves of tender green is set;
So rich she cannot hide from view,
But covers all the bank with blue.
Spring Scatters Far and Wide. D.R. GOODALE.
Oh! faint delicious spring-time violet,
Thine odor like a key,
Turns noiselessly in memory's wards to let
A thought of sorrow free.
The Violet. W.W. STORY.
In kindly showers and sunshine bud
The branches of the dull gray wood;
Out from its sunned and sheltered nooks
The blue eye of the violet looks.
Mogg Megone, Pt. III. J.G. WHITTIER.
Come for arbutus, my dear, my dear,
The pink waxen blossoms are waking, I hear;
We'll gather an armful of fragrant wild cheer.
Come for arbutus, my dear, my dear,
Come for arbutus, my dear.
Come for Arbutus. S.L. OBERHOLTZER.
A violet by a mossy stone
Half hidden from the eye!
Fair as a star when only one
Is shining in the sky.
Lucy. W. WORDSWORTH.