Poems (Hoffman)/Lines Written on Receiving Violets in a Letter
LINES WRITTEN ON RECEIVING VIOLETS
IN A LETTER
IN A LETTER
Dear little violets, crushed in a letter,
Words may be true, but thy eloquence better
Speaks of a friendship unchanged and sincere;
Many a flower is more handsome and stately,
Many a blossom more waxen and saintly,
But are there any more modest or dear?
Words may be true, but thy eloquence better
Speaks of a friendship unchanged and sincere;
Many a flower is more handsome and stately,
Many a blossom more waxen and saintly,
But are there any more modest or dear?
Blue speaks of truth in a thousand forms molded,
Tinting the sky-scrolls above us unfolded,
Blossoming with the sweet violets of Spring,
Looking from soul-windows deep with emotion,
Written in all the blue waves of the ocean,
Touching with beauty the bird's azure wing.
Tinting the sky-scrolls above us unfolded,
Blossoming with the sweet violets of Spring,
Looking from soul-windows deep with emotion,
Written in all the blue waves of the ocean,
Touching with beauty the bird's azure wing.
Oft we may question true friendship's existence,
Oft be deceived by mere scheming and pretense;
But these winged bearers a message have brought
Telling, not what friendship is or has once been,
But what it might be if with an inspired pen
Truth could be written on each secret thought.
Oft be deceived by mere scheming and pretense;
But these winged bearers a message have brought
Telling, not what friendship is or has once been,
But what it might be if with an inspired pen
Truth could be written on each secret thought.
Friendship is true, though misused and perverted,
Though oft with evil intentions asserted;
What is not true is not worthy the name.
Friendship is not for a day, but unending,
Ever expanding and ever ascending;
Though man no more should its sacredness claim.
Though oft with evil intentions asserted;
What is not true is not worthy the name.
Friendship is not for a day, but unending,
Ever expanding and ever ascending;
Though man no more should its sacredness claim.
I will not cast you away, little token,
Friendship's worth cannot be written or spoken,
But it looks out from your sweet eyes of blue;
Crushed are the petals so fresh when first gathered;
Yet ye shall lie with mementoes long treasured,
Breathing so sweetly that friendship is true.
Friendship's worth cannot be written or spoken,
But it looks out from your sweet eyes of blue;
Crushed are the petals so fresh when first gathered;
Yet ye shall lie with mementoes long treasured,
Breathing so sweetly that friendship is true.