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Flowers-Violet: Quotations from Cyclopedia of Practical Quotations

The tulip is a courtly quean, Whom, therefore, I will shun.— HOOD — Flowers.

Dutch tulips from their beds Flaunted their stately heads.— MONTGOMERY — The Adventure of a Star.

Not one of Flora's brilliant race A form more perfect can display; Art could not feign more simple grace Nor Nature take a line away.— MONTGOMERY — On Planting a

Tulip-Root. The tulip's petals shine in dew, All beautiful, but none alike.— MONTGOMERY — On Planting a

Tulip-Root. Like tulip-beds of different shape and dyes, Bending beneath the invisible west-wind's sighs.— MOORE — Lalla Rookh. The Veiled

Prophet of Khorassan. Verbena. Verbena. Sweet verbena, which, being brushed against Will hold you three hours after by the smell, In spite of long walks on the windy hills.— E. B. BROWNING — Aurora Leigh. Bk. VIII

Violet. Viola. Early violets blue and white Dying for their love of light.— EDWIN ARNOLD — Almond Blossoms.

Down in the valley under the hill, Droppeth the snow-flake white and still, Wrapping the violet, near my feet, Cold and stiff in its winding sheet.— J. N. BARKER — Under the Snow.

Deep violets, you liken to The kindest eyes that look on you, Without a thought disloyal.— E. B. BROWNING — A Flower in a Letter

I know where the young May violet grows, In its lone and lowly nook.— BRYANT — An Indian Story. St. 2.

The country ever has a lagging Spring, Waiting for May to call its violets forth.— BRYANT — Spring in Town.

Thou comest not when violets lean O'er wandering brooks and springs unseen.— BRYANT — To the Fringed Gentian.

Violets spring in the soft May shower.— BRYANT — The Maiden's Sorrow.

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.— BRYANT — The Yellow Violet.

The violets golden That sprinkle the vale below.— ALICE CARY — Pictures of Memory.

Stars will blossom in the darkness, Violets bloom beneath the snow.— JULIA C. R. DORR — For a Silver

Wedding. Yet there upon that upland height The darlings of the early spring- Blue violets-were blossoming.— JULIA C. R. DORR — Unanswered.

Again the violet of our early days Drinks beauteous azure from the golden sun, And kindles into fragrance at his blaze.— EBENEZER ELLIOTT — Miscellaneous

Poems. Spring. Cold blows the wind against the hill, And cold upon the plain; I sit me by the bank, until The violets come again.— RICHARD GARNETT — Violets.

A vi'let on the meadow grew, That no one saw, that no one knew, It was a modest flower. A shepherdess pass'd by that way- Light-footed, pretty and so gay; That way she came, Softly warbling forth her lay.— GOETHE — The Violet. Frederick Ricord's Trans.

A blossom of returning light, An April flower of sun and dew; The earth and sky, the day and night Are melted in her depth of blue!— DORA READ GOODALE — Blue Violets.

The modest, lowly violet In leaves of tender green is set; So rich she cannot hide from view, But covers all the bank with blue.— DORA READ GOODALE — Spring Scatters

Far and Wide.

The eyes of spring, so azure, Are peeping from the ground; They are the darling violets, That I in nosegays bound.— HEINE — Book of Songs.

New Spring. No. 13. St. 1. The violets prattle and titter, And gaze on the stars high above.— HEINE — Book of Songs. Lyrical Interlude. No. 9. St. 3.

Welcome, maids of honor, You doe bring In the spring, And wait upon her.— HERRICK — To Violets.

The violet is a nun.— HOOD — Flowers.

We are violets blue, For our sweetness found Careless in the mossy shades, Looking on the ground. Love's dropp'd eyelids and a kiss,- Such our breath and blueness is.— LEIGH HUNT — Songs and Chorus of the

Flowers. Violets, And shade the violets, That they may bind the moss in leafy nets.— KEATS — I Stood Tiptoe Upon a Little

Hill. Violets!-deep-blue violets! April's loveliest coronets! There are no flowers grow in the vale, Kiss'd by the dew, woo'd by the gale,- None by the dew of the twilight wet, So sweet as the deep-blue violet.— L. E. LANDON- — The Violet.

Violet! sweet violet! Thine eyes are full of tears; Are they wet Even yet With the thought of other years? S.— LOWELL — Song.

Winds wander, and dews drip earthward; Rains fall, suns rise and set; Earth whirls, and all but to prosper A poor little violet.— LOWELL — The Changeling.

The violets were past their prime, Yet their departing breath Was sweeter, in the blast of death, Than all the lavish fragrance of the time.— MONTGOMERY — The Adventure of a Star.

Hath the pearl less whiteness Because of its birth? Hath the violet less brightness For growing near earth?— MOORE — Desmond's Song.

Steals timidly away, Shrinking as violets do in summer's ray.— MOORE — Lalla Rookh. Veiled Prophet

of Khorassan. Surely as cometh the Winter, I know There are Spring violets under the snow. C. R. H. NEWELL (Orpheus C. Kerr)- Spring Violets under the Snow. The violet thinks, with her timid blue eye, To pass for a blossom enchantingly shy.— FRANCIS S. OSGOOD — Garden Gossip. St. 3.

In the Spring time: April violets glow In wayside nooks, close clustering into groups, Like shy elves hiding from the traveller's eye.— THOS. BUCHANAN READ — The New Pastoral. Bk. I. L. 73.

The violets whisper from the shade Which their own leaves have made: Men scent our fragrance on the air, Yet take no heed Of humble lessons we would read.— CHRISTINA G. ROSSETTI — " Consider the Lilies of the Field." L. 13.

The sweet sound, That breathes upon a bank of violets, Stealing and giving odour!— Shakespeare — Twelfth Night. Act I. Sc. 1. L. 5.

Violets dim, But sweeter than the lids of Juno's eyes. Or Cytherea's breath.— Shakespeare — Winter's Tale. Act IV. Sc. 4. L. 120.

Who are the violets now That strew the green lap of the new come spring.— Shakespeare — Richard II. Act V. Sc. 2. L. 46.

And the violet lay dead while the odour flew On the wings of the wind o'er the waters blue.— SHELLEY — Music.

The tender violet bent in smiles To elves that sported nigh, Tossing the drops of fragrant dew To scent the evening sky.— ELIZABETH OAKES SMITH — Field Elves.

Oh! faint delicious spring-time violet, Thine odor like a key, Turns noiselessly in memory's wards to let A thought of sorrow free.— W. W. STORY — The Violet.

And from his ashes may be made The violet of his native land.— TENNYSON — In Memoriam. XVIII.

And in my breast Spring wakens too; and my regret Becomes an April violet, And buds and blossoms like the rest.— TENNYSON — In Memoriam. CXV.

The smell of violets, hidden in the green, Pour'd back into my empty soul and frame The times when I remembered to have been Joyful and free from blame.— TENNYSON — A Dream of Fair Women. St. 20.

A humble flower long time I pined Upon the solitary plain, And trembled at the angry wind, And shrunk before the bitter rain. And oh! 'twas in a blessed hour A passing wanderer chanced to see, And, pitying the lonely flower, To stoop and gather me.— THACKERAY — Song of the Violet.

The violet would thy dusk hair deck With graces like thine own unsought. Ah! but such place would daze and wreck Its simple, lowly rustic thought. For so advanced, dear, to thee, It would unlearn humility!— FRANCIS THOMPSON — Gilded Gold. St. 3.

Banks that slope to the southern sky Where languid violets love to lie.— SARAH HELEN WHITMAN — Wood Walks in Spring. L. 11.

Here oft we sought the violet, as it lay Buried in beds of moss and lichens gray. S.— SARAH HELEN WHITMAN — A Day of the Indian Summer. L. 33.

In kindly showers and sunshine bud The branches of the dull gray wood; Out from its sunned and sheltered nooks The blue eye of the violet looks.— WHITTIER — Mogg Megone. Pt. III.

A violet by a mossy stone Half hidden from the eye! Fair as a star when only one Is shining in the sky.— WORDSWORTH — She Dwelt Among the

Untrodden Ways. The violets of five seasons reappear And fade, unseen by any human eye.— WORDSWORTH — Nutting.

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?— SIR HENRY WOTTON — To his Mistress

the Queen of Bohemia. Wallflower. Cheiranthus Cheiri. The Wall-flower-the Wall-flower, How beautiful it blooms! It gleams above the ruined tower, Like sunlight over tombs; It sheds a halo of repose Around the wrecks of time. To beauty give the flaunting rose, The Wall-flower is sublime. C.— D. M. MOIR — The Wall-Flower.

Water-lily. Nymphæa. What loved little islands, twice seen in their lakes, Can the wild water-lily restore.— CAMPBELL — Field Flowers.

The slender water-lily Peeps dreamingly out of the lake; The moon, oppress'd with love's sorrow, Looks tenderly down for her sake.— HEINE — Book of Songs. New Spring. No. 15. St. 1.

Those virgin lilies, all the night Bathing their beauties in the lake, That they may rise more fresh and bright, When their beloved sun's awake.— MOORE — Lalla Rookh. Paradise and

the Peri. Broad water-lilies lay tremulously, And starry river-buds glimmered by, And around them the soft stream did glide and dance With a motion of sweet sound and radiance.— SHELLEY — The Sensitive Plant. Pt. I.

She saw the river onward glide, The lilies nodding on the tide.— SUSAN A. TALLEY — Ennerslie.

Now folds the lily all her sweetness up, And slips into the bosom of the lake; So fold thyself, my dearest, thou, and slip Into my bosom, and be lost in me.— TENNYSON — The Princess, VII. L. 171.