Littell's Living Age/Volume 173/Issue 2235/March Blossoms

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Gathering the buds of blue-eyed March,
          Yonder I see her now:
The wild white violets at her feet,
          The robin on the bough.

I, too, must gather the blooms of spring;
          Ah there! I have it now —
The look that lights, like sudden fire,
          Her lip and cheek and brow.

We are but gathering early flowers:
          What think ye of it now,
Ye wild white violets at our feet,
          Thou robin on the bough?