Poetry Archives

Dear little Violet,
  Don’t be afraid!
Lift your blue eyes
  From the rock’s mossy shade!
All the birds call for you
  Out of the sky:
May is here, waiting,
  And here, too, am I.

Why do you shiver so,
  Violet sweet?
Soft is the meadow-grass
  Under my feet.
Wrapped in your hood of green,
  Violet, why
Peep from your earth-door
  So silent and shy?

Trickle the little brooks
  Close to your bed;
Softest of fleecy clouds
  Float overhead;
“Ready and waiting!”
  The slender reeds sigh:
“Ready and waiting!”
  We sing—May and I.

Come, pretty Violet,
  Winter’s away:
Come, for without you
  May isn’t May.
Down through the sunshine
  Wings flutter and fly;—
Quick, little Violet,
  Open your eye!

Hear the rain whisper,
  “Dear Violet, come!”
How can you stay
  In your underground home?
Up in the pine-boughs
  For you the winds sigh.
Homesick to see you,
  Are we—May and I.

Ha! though you care not
  For call or for shout,
Yon troop of sunbeams
  Are winning you out.
Now all is beautiful
  Under the sky:
May’s here—and violets!
  Winter, good-by!