The Vow of the Peacock and Other Poems/The Violet

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For other versions of this work, see The Violet (L. E. L.).


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.

Though 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,—
    'Twas 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 recall those hours.


Let Nature spread her loveliest,
    By spring or summer nurst;
Yet still I love the violet best,
    Because I loved it first.