VIOLET-PLANTING.
5
He passed behind this mystery of death,
How, bringing home great clusters won away
from the dark wood-haunts where he loved to stray,
Until his dewy garments were replete
With wafts of odorous breath,—
With sods all mossy-sweet,
And, all awake and purple with new bloom,
He filled and crowded every window-scat,
Until the pleasant room
Was fragrant with your mystical perfume:
Now vainly do I watch beside the door—
Ah, never any more!
How, bringing home great clusters won away
from the dark wood-haunts where he loved to stray,
Until his dewy garments were replete
With wafts of odorous breath,—
With sods all mossy-sweet,
And, all awake and purple with new bloom,
He filled and crowded every window-scat,
Until the pleasant room
Was fragrant with your mystical perfume:
Now vainly do I watch beside the door—
Ah, never any more!
Alas, how could I know
That I so soon should strow
Your blossoms warm with tears, above his head
That your wet roots would cling
About the hand that wears his bridal ring,
When he who placed it there lay cold and dead?
That I so soon should strow
Your blossoms warm with tears, above his head
That your wet roots would cling
About the hand that wears his bridal ring,
When he who placed it there lay cold and dead?
O violets, live and grow,
That, ere the bright days go,
This turf may be with rarest beauty crowned!
Nay, shrink not from my touch,
That, ere the bright days go,
This turf may be with rarest beauty crowned!
Nay, shrink not from my touch,
