"Like violets pale i’ the Spring o’ the year Came my Love’s sad eyes to my youth; Wan and dim with many a tear, But the sweeter for that in sooth: Wet and dim, Tender and true, Violet eyes Of the sweetest blue.Like pansies dark i’ the June o’ the year Grow my Love’s glad eyes to my prime; Rich with the purple splendour clear Of their thoughtful bliss sublime: Deep and dark, Solemn and true, Pansy eyes Of the noblest blue."