Here are violets, beautiful violets!
All bright in their purple, and fresh in their bloom!
The scent of the jasmine, the breath of the rose,
Cannot rival these sweet simple flow'rs' perfume.
Fair daughters of shade! how fondly we love them!
Contentment and peace meekly dwell in their breast;
The first when the spring comes to follow her footsteps,
The last to forget on her bosom to rest!
The sun is just up, and the dew of the morn
Rests balmy and bright in their half-opened eyes,
As, bending with earnest and eloquent praise,
They pour out in fragrance their souls to the skies.
Thus pure in their off'rings should our praises be;
Thus early and true from the heart they should spring;
Then heav'n in its mercy would show'r on our bosoms,
The dew of its blessing! the shade of its wing!