Violets

"While all about, a meadowy ground was seen, Of violets mingling with the parsley green:"

"The propre vyolet;"

"Vpon her head a Cremosin coronet, With Damaske roses and Dafadillies set: Bayleaues betweene, And Primroses greene Embellish the sweete Violet."

"Lay her in lillies and in violets,"

"[T]he Violet pallid blew,"

"Duchess of York: Welcome, my son: who are the violets now That strew the green lap of the new come spring?Duke of Aumerle: Madam, I know not, nor I greatly care not: God knows I had as lief be none as one.Duke of York: Well, bear you well in this new spring of time, Lest you be cropp'd before you come to prime."

"King Henry (disguised): I think the king is but a man, as I am: the violet smells to him as it doth to me: ..."

"Solemne Violets hanging head as shamed,"

"I need not tell thee of the lily white, ... Nor of thy paps where Love himself doth dwell, Which like two hills of violets appear."

"These blue-vein’d violets whereon we lean Never can blab, nor know not what we mean."

"When I behold the violet past prime,"

"The forward violet thus did I chide:— Sweet thief, whence did thou steal thy sweet that smells, If not from my love’s breath?"

"You violets that first appear, By your pure purple mantles known Like the proud virgins of the year, As if the spring were all your own; What are you when the rose is blown?"

"The violet’s reclining head,"

"A single violet transplant, The strength, the colour, and the size— All which before was poor and scant— Redoubles still, and multiplies."

"Violets pluck’d, the sweetest rain Makes not fresh nor grow again."

"First the Primrose courts his eyes, Then the Cowslip he espies; Next the Pansy seems to woo him, Then Carnations bow unto him; Which whilst that enamour’d swain From the stalk intends to strain, (As half-fearing to be seen) Prettily her leaves between Peeps the Violet, pale to see That her virtues slighted be; Which so much his liking wins That to seize her he begins."

"Let the sweet-breath’d Violet now Unto whom she pleaseth bow;"

"The humble violet, that lowly down, Salutes the gay nymphs as they trimly pass;"

"Now strength and newer purple get, Each here declining violet;"

"Welcome, maids of honour! You do bring In the spring, And wait upon her.She has virgins many, Fresh and fair; Yet you are More sweet than any.You’re the maiden posies, And so graced To be placed ’Fore damask roses.Yet, though thus respected, By-and-by Ye do lie, Poor girls, neglected."

"You are a dainty violet, Yet wither’d ere you can be set Within the virgin’s coronet."

"And now we must imagine first, The elves present, to quench his thirst, A pure seed-pearl of infant dew Brought and besweetened in a blue And pregnant violet, ..."

"The violet knots, like curious mazes spread O’er all the garden, ..."

"Thou art my all; my spring remains In the fair violets of thy veins;"

"The Violet (purple Senator)"

"There on Beds of Violets blew,"

"A fragrant bank of strawberries, Diaper’d with violets’ eyes, Was table, table-cloth, and fare;"

"Twice happy Violets! that first had Birth In the warm Spring, when no frosts nip the Earth; Thrice happy now; since you transplanted are Unto the sweeter Bosome of my Fair. And yet poor Flowers! I pitty your hard Fate, You have but chang’d, not better’d your Estate: What boots it you t’have scap’d cold Winters breath, To find, like me, by Flames a sudden death?"

"Here the violet bows to greet Her with homage to her feet;"

"See how this Violet which before Hung sullenly her drooping head, As angry at the ground that bore The purple treasure which she spread, Doth smilingly erected grow, Transplanted to those hills of snow.And whilst the pillows of thy breast Do her reclining head sustain, She swells with pride to be so blest, And doth all other flowers disdain, Yet weeps that dew which kissed her last, To see her odours so surpast.Poor flower! how far deceiv’d thou wert, To think the riches of the morn, Or all the sweets she can impart Could these or sweeten or adorn, Since thou from them do’st borrow scent, And they to thee lend ornament."

"[T]hat queen Of secrecy, the violet:"

"Violets! — deep-blue violets! April's loveliest coronets! There are no flowers grow in the vale, Kiss'd by the dew, wooed by the gale, — None by the dew of the twilight wet, So sweet as the deep-blue violet!"

"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."

"I had not thought of violets late, The wild, shy kind that spring beneath your feet In wistful April days, when lovers mate And wander through the fields in raptures sweet. The thought of violets meant florists’ shops, And bows and pins, and perfumed papers fine; And garish lights, and mincing little fops And cabarets and soaps, and deadening wines. So far from sweet real things my thoughts had strayed, I had forgot wide fields; and clear brown streams; The perfect loveliness that God has made,— Wild violets shy and Heaven-mounting dreams. And now—unwittingly, you’ve made me dream Of violets, and my soul’s forgotten gleam."

"Quixote: The violets in the mountains have broken the rocks!"

"Do you think amethysts can be the souls of good violets?"

"You are the only person who loves me in the world," said Elizabeth. "When you talk to me I smell violets."

"You talk in the language of the violets, Miss Shirley."

"[E]ven if fall she must, it was to lie on the earth and moulder sweetly into the roots of violets."

"The tender violet bent in smiles To elves that sported nigh, Tossing the drops of fragrant dew To scent the evening sky."