Violet delicate, sweet,
Down in the deep of the wood,
Hid in thy still retreat,
Far from the sound of the street,
Man and his merciless mood:—
Safe from the storm and the heat,
Breathing of beauty and good
Fragrantly, under thy hood
Violet.
Beautiful maid, discreet,
Where is the mate that is meet,
Meet for thee—strive as he could—
Yet will I kneel at thy feet,
Fearing another one should,
Violet!
Spectator.W. C. Monkhouse