Violet

“ Let the darkness turn violet with rich dawn. Let the darkness be warmed, warmed through to a ruddy violet, incipient purpling towards summer in the world of the heart of man. Are the violets already here! ”

“ The violets, especially in these grounds, are abundant and luxuriant, making every space of sward shadowed by the trees purple with their loveliness, like a reflection of the violet sky that had broken in through the lattice-work of boughs, and scenting all the air with their delicious perfume. ”

“ HOW THE FAIRY VIOLET
he Fairy Violet lived in the heart of a beautiful forest, where, through the glad spring months, the sun shone softly, and the bright flowers bloomed, and now and then the gentle rain fell in silver drops that made every green thing on which they rested fresher and more beautiful still. At the foot of a stately oak nestled a clump of violets, and it was there the wee fairy made her home. She wore a robe of deep violet, and her wings, which were of the most delicate gauze, glistened like dew-drops in the sun. ”

“ Borrow their perfumes; whose eye
Gilds the morn, and clears the sky;
Whose disheveled tresses shed
Pearls upon the violet bed.
—THOMAS CAREW.
A wealth of clover clothes the place
Where, clad in buff-lined coats of blue,
Our countrymen o’erthrew
Their alien foe; and violets efface
All signs of combat.
—D. CHAUNCEY BREWER. [Pg 64]
Down through the sunshine
Wings flutter and fly;—
Quick, little violet,
Open your eye!
—LUCY LARCOM.
Where violets hide,
Where star-flowers strew the rivulet’s side,
And blue-birds, in the misty spring,
Of cloudless skies and summer sing. ”

“ Every new violet is as exquisitely tinted, as sweetly scented, as its predecessors of a thousand years ago. Each new maple-leaf opens as delicate and lovely as the first one that ever came out of its tightly packed bud in the spring. Mother Nature never grows old. ”

“ THE VIOLET AND THE ROSE The violet in the wood, that's sweet to-day, Is longer sweet than roses of red June; Set me sweet violets along my way, And bid the red rose flower, but not too soon. Ah violet, ah rose, why not the two? Why bloom not all fair flowers the whole year through? Why not the two, young violet, ripe rose? Why dies one sweetness when another blows? Augusta Webster [1837-1894]
TO A WIND-FLOWER Teach me the secret of thy loveliness, That, being made wise, I may aspire to be As beautiful in thought, and so express Immortal truths to earth's mortality ”

“ THE VIOLET BY ELLEN LOUISA TUCKER Why lingerest thou, pale violet, to see the dying year; Are Autumn's blasts fit music for thee, fragile one, to hear; Will thy clear blue eye, upward bent, still keep its chastened glow, Still tearless lift its slender form above the wintry snow? ”

“ THE YELLOW VIOLET. When beechen buds begin to swell,
And woods the blue-bird's warble know,
The yellow violet's modest bell
Peeps from the last year's leaves below.
Ere russet fields their green resume,
Sweet flower, I love, in forest bare,
To meet thee, when thy faint perfume
Alone is in the virgin air.
Of all her train, the hands of Spring
First plant thee in the watery mould,
And I have seen thee blossoming
Beside the snow-bank's edges cold. ”

“ Many bright mornings, much dew, many showers
Passed o’er thy head; many light hearts and wings,
Which now are dead, lodged in thy living bowers.
And still a new succession sings and flies;
Fresh groves grow up, and their green branches shoot
Towards the old and still enduring skies;
While the low violet thrives at their root.
—HENRY VAUGHAN.
Blue eyes
Whose sleepy lid like snow on violets lies. ”

“ In the violet’s hidden sweetness breathes.
—JAMES G. PERCIVAL.
Perchance the violets o’er my dust
Will half betray their buried trust,
And say, their blue eyes full of dew,
“She loved you better than you knew.”
—ELIZABETH AKERS ALLEN.
Nature does not recognize
This strife that rends the earth and skies;
No war-dreams vex the winter sleep of clover-heads and daisy-eyes:
When blood her grassy altar wets,
She sends the pitying violets
To heal the outrage with their bloom and cover it with soft regrets.
—ELIZABETH AKERS ALLEN. [Pg 20]
Sure thou didst flourish once! ”

“ Violet!
—COSMO MONKHOUSE.
Violets, shy violets,
How many hearts with thee compare,
Who hide themselves in thickest green,
And thence unseen
Ravish the enraptured air
With sweetness, dewy, fresh and fair!
—ANONYMOUS. [Pg 30]
I think the very violets
Are looking the way you’ll come!
—ALICE CARY.
Once, long ago, in summer’s glow,
We threaded, you and I,
A garden’s maze of pleasant ways,
Whose beauty charmed the eye,—
Where violets bent in sweet content
And pinks stood proud and high.
—ELIZABETH AKERS ALLEN.
Then, feeble man, be wise, tak tent
How industry can fetch content. ”

“ Of all the flowers that sweeten this fair earth, the violet is indeed the most delightful in itself—form, fragrance, and colour—nor less in the humility of its birthplace, and its haunts in the "sunshiny shade." ”

“ The violet trills, through the bluebird,
Of the heaven that within her she feels.
—LUCY LARCOM.
Like those same winds when, startled from their lair,
They hunt up violets, and free swift brooks
From icy caves, even as thy clear looks
Bid my heart bloom, and sing, and break all care.
—JAMES RUSSELL LOWELL. [Pg 61]
And now the other violets are crowding up to see
What welcome in this blustering world may chance for them to be.
They lift themselves on slender stems in every shaded place,
Heads over heads, all turned one way, wonder in every face. ”

“ Though many a flower may win my praise,
The violet has my love;
I did not pass my childish days
In garden or in grove:
My garden was the window-seat,
Upon whose edge was set
A little vase—the fair, the sweet—
It was the violet. ”

“ Grow misty-green with leafing buds,
And violets and wind-flowers sway
Against the throbbing heart of May.
—JOHN GREENLEAF WHITTIER.
When springtime comes,
Primrose and violet haunt the mossy bank.
—HENRY G. HEWLETT. [Pg 72]
Rosy and white on the wanton breeze
The petals fall from the apple-trees,
And under the hedge where the shade lies wet
Are children, picking the violet.
—F. W. BOURDILLON.
The same sweet sounds are in my ear
My early childhood loved to hear.
The violet there, in soft May dew,
Comes up, as modest and as true.
—WILLIAM CULLEN BRYANT.
Farewell to thee, France! ”

“ Violet, why
Peep from your earth-door
So silent and shy?
—LUCY LARCOM.
O day of days! Thy memory
Will never fade, nor pass;
Patches of lowly violets
Were clouding all the grass.
—ALICE CARY.
Go, modest little violets, and lie upon her breast;
Your eyes will tell her something—perhaps she’ll guess the rest!
—CHARLES HENRY WEBB. [Pg 133]
How gentle is the soul that looketh out
From violets sweet through dim, blue, tearful eyes,
That turns a pleading face to look about
And watch the sun’s course through the smiling skies!
—ISAAC BASSETT CHOATE.
Who beheld it? ”

“ Violet did not suspect that the reason the sunshine looked so bright, and the shadows so cool and refreshing, and the leaves and brook so wide awake and so musical, was because the good fairies Love and Contentment were watching over her; and the beautiful purple light from Love's wings, and from Contentment's starry crown, and the fragrance from her lily urn, would make any, the dullest place, bright. ”

“ A few shy violets were in blossom—the afternoon sun was playing upon the opening blossoms. I picked two or three tiny flowers, but only a few, for I like to leave a spot as fair as I found it, and the little petals were still tightly curled. Growing close to the violet was another charming woodland flower, the wood-sorrel, or witches’ cheeses as village children often call it here. The little blossoms were of an exquisite translucent white, with delicate lavender veins, and strange triangular leaves that folded up at night like the leaves of a sensitive plant. ”

“ Sir Advocate, I say and affirm, in spite of your speech, that Violet is more joyfully welcomed, more beloved, and more desired than Rose. Here is the cause; [25] now listen to the truth. When a winter full of frost and chill shall have put to rout, by its prolonged stay, trees and fruits, leaves and flowers, then men and women and children long for bright days, and wish the springtime to come swiftly, when they will hear the singing of larks and will find violets in orchards, gardens, and every pretty close. ”

“ Listen, Violet, I am going to tell you a wonderful secret. And this wonderful secret is about your namesakes, the violets. Every little flower that grows is a living being, as you or I—and every plant is a household. How do I know this? The flowers told me themselves, and now I am going to let you into the secret.
Of course, I must admit that the flowers do not talk as we do. Unlike ourselves, they cannot express themselves aloud. They must show their thoughts by their motions or by their change of expression. When a flower is thirsty, how does it tell us so? ”

“ "when I came to you out of all that dust and heat and toil, I positively smelt violets at once. But not the sweet violet -- you know, that early dark violet that smells of melting snow and spring grass." ”

“ The violet has a fragrant breath,
⁠But fragrance will not cheer.
The trees are bare, the sun is cold,
⁠And seldom, seldom seen;
The heavens have lost their zone of gold,
⁠And earth her robe of green. ”

“ It is with women as with flowers. Some may prefer the great brilliant sunflower, or the rose, which is so bright and large that it must ever catch the eye. But give me the little violet which hides among the mosses, and yet is so sweet to look upon, and sheds its fragrance round it. ”

“ With the exception of the rose, no other plant is so widely distributed and at the same time so universally admired as the Violet. Not alone is it esteemed because of its beauty and fragrance, but a wealth of romance, of historical associations and mythical lore have clustered around the purple blossoms, endearing them to the poet and scientist alike. ”

“ The shy, sweet violet of the wood.
—WEATHERLY.
Her bloom the rose outvies,
The lily dares no plea,
The violet’s glory dies,
No flower so sweet can be;
When love is in her eyes
What need of spring for me?
—ANNA MARIA FAY.
Who is there can sing of a more divine thing
Than the edge of the woods in the edge of the spring,
Ere the violets peep, while hepaticas sleep,
And still in the hollows the snow-drifts lie deep?
—MILDRED G. PHILLIPS. [Pg 36]
The erthe was ful softe and swete. ”

“ You can think how lovely they look as they go darting through the air, and I must tell you that the beautiful violet-blue sends out gleams of other kinds of blues—lighter ones—which are just as beautiful as the violet itself. ”

“ Francis de Sales, a contemporary of Shakespeare, gave a lovely description of the flower when he said:
"A true widow is in the Church as a March Violet, shedding around an exquisite perfume by the fragrance of her devotion and always hidden under the ample leaves of her lowliness and by her subdued [Pg 127] coloring, showing the spirit of her mortification. She seeks untrodden and solitary places."
The violet's qualities of lowliness, humility, and sweetness have always appealed to poets. The violet is also beloved because it is one of the earliest spring flowers. ”

“ The flowers are crushed and their fragrance does not blend. How much lovelier is a single violet or orchid in the fields, unhampered by strings and wires, and connected solely with its stalk and the surrounding green leaves. ”

“ Beauty, and health, and money are good for nothing by themselves. O Violet, you have given health and beauty to my heart, and now I am rich and happy because no living thing can be glad but I grow richer by sharing its joy—those cool cloud shadows flickering over the grass—this sweetness the air has caught from your violet beds; and look how that humming bird enjoys the dew and honey he is drinking out of the roses, hanging among them by his long, slim bill; I can almost taste it with him as clearly as I smell the odor he shakes from the roses with his glittering wings ”

“ And soft scents strayed from the violet’s throat.
—BERNARD WELLER. [Pg 45]
When the rain beats and March winds blow,
We should be glad if we could know
How, not so very far away,
There shineth a serener day
Where birds are blithe, and happy children pass
To gather violets among the grass.
—EMILY S. OAKEY.
Like a violet, like a lark,
Like the dawn that kills the dark,
Like a dew-drop, trembling, clinging,
Is the poet’s first sweet singing.
—RICHARD WATSON GILDER.
Earth folds dark blankets round the violet blue. ”

“ But for him who has eyes to behold,
The violets bloom in October.
—ELIZABETH AKERS ALLEN.
The soft warm haze
Makes moist once more the sere and dusty ways,
And, creeping through where dead leaves lie in drifts,
The violet returns. ”

“ Then Violet knew that her work was done, and she flew out of the open window, and up into the clear sky, far above the tops of the tall chimneys, and some men, who were looking up from the dusty streets at the sunset, wondering whether the next day would be fine or wet, caught a sudden gleam of her silver-tipped wings, and thought it was a flash of summer lightning, and were conscious at the same moment of a delicious fragrance as of violets, and said the wind must be from the west, for it was wafting to them country scents. ”

“ All fresh with bloom, with odor sweet,
With brook and bird and breeze in tune,
The beautiful bright earth of June
Moves to the fullness of her noon,
While serving sunbeams round her fling
The purple violets as they fleet.
—HARRIET PRESCOTT SPOFFORD.
Run, little rivulet, run!
Sing of the flowers, every one,—
Of the delicate harebell and violet blue;
Of the red mountain rosebud, all dripping with dew.
—LUCY LARCOM.
Safe from the storm and the heat,
Breathing of beauty and good,
Fragrantly, under thy hood,
Violet!
—COSMO MONKHOUSE. [Pg 98]
O violets, blue-eyed violets! ”