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Under the Violets

Her hands are cold; her face is white;
  No more her pulses come and go;
Her eyes are shut to life and light;—
  Fold the white vesture, snow on snow,
  And lay her where the violets blow.

But not beneath a graven stone,
  To plead for tears with...

Poet: Oliver Wendell Holmes
Under the Violets

Under the violets, blue and sweet,
  Where low the willow droops and weeps,
Where children tread with timid feet,
  When twilight o’er the forest creeps,
  She sleeps,—my little darling sleeps.

Breathe low and soft, O wind! breathe low
  Where so...

Poet: Edward Young
The Violets

There was a land where lived no violets.
A traveller at once demanded: “Why?”
The people told him:
“Once the violets of this place spoke thus:
‘Until some woman freely gives her lover
To another woman
We will fight in bloody scuffle.’”
...

Poet: Stephen Crane
To Violets

Welcome, maids of honor!
    You doe bring
    In the Spring,
And wait upon her.

She has virgins many,
    Fresh and faire;
    Yet you are
More sweet than any.

Y’ are the maiden Posies,
    And, so grac’t,
    ...

Poet: Robert Herrick