On finding a Violet the first of the season

On finding a Violet the first of the season

Hail, thou blooming violet
Thou firstling of the spring,
Precursor of the fragrant band,
That with them odours bring,
Thou lift'st thy blushing purple leaves
Up from the woodland green,
And smils't reserv'd like modesty
That strives not to be seen.

I prize thee more thou little flower
Because thou hads't no friend,*
To shelter and protect thee;
A guardian power to lend,
But felt the hand of Providence
In southern breeze, and sun,
And grew, and bloom'd and flourish'd,
As if thou nurs'd had been.

I'll watch thee now thou fragile thing,
And Boreas' blasts in vain,
Shall strive to chill thy blossoms
And droop thee on the plain.
Yes raise thy head securely,
Drink in the balmy dew
And blush in native sweetness
Thy tints unfold to view.

Thou minds't me of the tender fair
In cottage neat upreared;
Far from the noisy haunt of vice
By sterling worth endear'd,
Who peers not out in borrow'd charms,
But unassuming glows;
In artlessness and innocence,
As virtue ever does.

Arion

2:7, p. 54

1828.05.09