Snuffs the free air a moment's space,
Glares grimly on the baffled chase,
And seeks the covert loan."
"THE COMPLAINT OF THE VIOLETS.
By the silent foot of the shadowy hill
We slept in our green retreats,
And the April showers were wont to fill
Our hearts with sweets;
And though we lay in a lowly bower,
Yet all things loved us well,