Poems of Letitia Elizabeth Landon (L. E. L.) in The Literary Souvenir, 1831/The Violet
THE VIOLET.
Why better than the lady rose
Love I this little flower?
Because its fragrant leaves are those
I loved in childhood's hour.
Tho' many a flower may win my praise,
The violet has my love;
I did not pass my childish days
In garden or in grove:
My garden was the window-seat,
Upon whose edge was set
A little vase,—the fair, the sweet,—
It was the violet.
It was my pleasure and my pride;—
How I did watch its growth!
For health and bloom, what plans I tried,
And often injured both.
I placed it in the summer shower,
I placed it in the sun;
And ever, at the evening hour,
My work seemed half undone.
The broad leaves spread, the small buds grew,
How slow they seemed to be;
At last there came a tinge of blue,—
’T was worth the world to me!
At length the perfume filled the room,
Shed from their purple wreath;
No flower has now so rich a bloom,
Has now so sweet a breath.
I gathered two or three,—they seemed
Such rich gifts to bestow;
So precious in my sight, I deemed
That all must think them so.
Ah! who is there but would be fain
To be a child once more;
If future years could bring again
All that they brought before.
My heart's world has been long o'erthrown,
It is no more of flowers;
Their bloom is past, their breath is flown,
Yet I recal those hours.
Let nature spread her loveliest,
By spring or summer nurst;
Yet still I love the violet best,
Because I loved it first.
L. E. L.