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THE VISION OF VIOLETS.
127
A storm of blossoms had fallen there
And covered the ground with a sweet excess.
And covered the ground with a sweet excess.
I stooped for a handful—"No,—forbear!
It were sacrilege; let them stay
All ungathered, they are so fair;
We will go back to the town, and say
That here, in the broad free light and air,
We have seen a miracle wrought to-day!
It were sacrilege; let them stay
All ungathered, they are so fair;
We will go back to the town, and say
That here, in the broad free light and air,
We have seen a miracle wrought to-day!
"For these are not living violets: see!
Never a cup is with dew impearled,—
Never a single roving bee
Over their ranks has his pinion furled;
These are phantoms, it seems to me,
The sinless souls of the violet world,—
Never a cup is with dew impearled,—
Never a single roving bee
Over their ranks has his pinion furled;
These are phantoms, it seems to me,
The sinless souls of the violet world,—
"The souls of all which have bloomed and died
Since the first was in Eden born;
Victims of heedless sport or pride,
Prized, neglected, or crushed in scorn,
Won and wasted and flung aside,—
And this is their resurrection morn.
Since the first was in Eden born;
Victims of heedless sport or pride,
Prized, neglected, or crushed in scorn,
Won and wasted and flung aside,—
And this is their resurrection morn.
