ALE—scentless—dead—who brought them here,
On sea-weed drifts to lie,
Who took them from their garden bed,
And left them here to die?
DEAD VIOLETS ON THE "LIDO."
![P](http://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/thumb/0/01/Poems_Eckley_P.jpg/48px-Poems_Eckley_P.jpg)
On sea-weed drifts to lie,
Who took them from their garden bed,
And left them here to die?
The crystal sand's no home for these,
The restless wave no bed,
Nor salt breeze bears its life to these
Sweet violets shrunk and dead.
The restless wave no bed,
Nor salt breeze bears its life to these
Sweet violets shrunk and dead.
Their hardier cousins bud and bloom
In coral gardens deep,
Are rocked and borne on crested wave,
Then thrown on sands to sleep.
In coral gardens deep,
Are rocked and borne on crested wave,
Then thrown on sands to sleep.
They blossom fair in ocean caves,
Where pearl and harp-shell lie,
They're nursed by storms that withered these
Pale exiles born to die!
Where pearl and harp-shell lie,
They're nursed by storms that withered these
Pale exiles born to die!
Who took them from their grassy home,
And tied with silken thread,
Then cast their sweetness to the wave,
With salt sea-weeds to wed?
And tied with silken thread,
Then cast their sweetness to the wave,
With salt sea-weeds to wed?
Venice, May, 1859.