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Listings |
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Christina G. Rossetti
The violets whisper from the shade Which their own leaves have made: Men scent our fragrance on the air, Yet take no heed Of humble lessons we would read.
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Dora Read Goodale
A blossom of returning light, An April flower of sun and dew; The earth and sky, the day and night Are melted in her depth of blue!
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Dora Read Goodale
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.
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Ebenezer Elliott
Again the violet of our early days Drinks beauteous azure from the golden sun, And kindles into fragrance at his blaze.
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Edwin Arnold
Early violets blue and white Dying for their love of light.
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Frances S. Osgood
The violets thinks, with her timid blue eye, To pass for a blossom enchantingly shy.
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Heinrich Heine
The violets prattle and titter, And gaze on the stars high above.
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Heinrich Heine
The eyes of spring, so azure, Are peeping from the ground; They are the darling violets, That I in nosegays bound.
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James Montgomery
The violets were past their prime, Yet their departing breath Was sweeter, in the blast of death, Than all the lavish fragrance of the time.
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James Russell Lowell
Winds wanders, and dews drip earthward; Rains fall, suns rise and set; Earth whirls, and all but to prosper A poor little violet.
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James Russell Lowell
Violet! sweet violet! Thine eyes are full of tears; Are they wet Even yet With the thought of other years?
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Johann Wolfgang von Goethe
A vi'let on the meadow grew, That no one saw, that no one knew, It was a modest flower. A shepherdess pass'd by that way-- Light footed, pretty and so gay; That way she came, Softly warbling forth her lay.
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John Keats
And shade the violets, That they may bind the moss in leafy nets.
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Julia C.R. Dorr
Stars will blossom in the darkness, Violets bloom beneath the snow.
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Leigh Hunt
We are violets blue, For our sweetness found Careless in the mossy shades, Looking on the ground. Love's dropp'd eyelids and a kiss,-- Such our breath and blueness is.
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Richard Garnett
Cold blows the wind against the hill, And cold upon the plain; I sit me by the bank, until The violets come again.
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Robert H. Newell
Surely as cometh the Winter, I know There are Spring violets under the snow.
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Robert Herrick
Welcome, maids of honor, You doe bring In the spring, And wait upon her.
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