ON A VIOLET.
I placed thee on my breast, sweet flower;
There, thou did'st live thy little hour,
I pluck 'd thee not from nature's bower—
But he—whom I love best,
Gave thee to me, with sunny smile,
One quiet moonlight night:
And though it seemeth a long while,
I cannot think that ought of guile
Could dim that smile's pure light.
There, thou did'st live thy little hour,
I pluck 'd thee not from nature's bower—
But he—whom I love best,
Gave thee to me, with sunny smile,
One quiet moonlight night:
And though it seemeth a long while,
I cannot think that ought of guile
Could dim that smile's pure light.
I prized the gift, but oh! much more
The sun-bright smile his features wore:
Ah! if these happy days are o'er,
Still of that smile I'll dream.
In vision, it will come to bless,
When length'ning shadows fall;
And twilight, with her sombre dress
Stealeth around in loneliness,
'Twill shed a gleam o'er all.
The sun-bright smile his features wore:
Ah! if these happy days are o'er,
Still of that smile I'll dream.
In vision, it will come to bless,
When length'ning shadows fall;
And twilight, with her sombre dress
Stealeth around in loneliness,
'Twill shed a gleam o'er all.