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ON VIOLETS BROUGHT ME BY MY FATHER
Oh those fragrant violets blue,
So often when I think, father dear, of you,
My heart melts with tears,
And sweet quietude allays all fears.

Oh, those violets sweet,
My whole heart goes out to meet
The perfume of hearts' desire
And makes my thought aspire.

To broader views of things
The voice within me soars and sings
Till it would almost burst the bounds
Of audible sounds.

And fill immensity fair,
With perfume so exquisitely rare,
Reaching the Father's House above,
Whose fragrance, all encompassing, is—Love.

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