Poems for Kids

THE MEADOW VIOLET

Violet, violet, sparkling with dew !
Down in the meadow-land wild where you grew,
How did you come by the beautiful blue
In which your soft petals unfold ?
And how do you hold up your tender young head,
When rude sweeping winds rush along o'er your bed,
Or dark, gloomy clouds, ranging over you, shed
Their waters, all heavy and cold ?

For no one has nursed you or watched you an hour,
Or found you a place in the garden or bower ;
But art cannot yield me so lovely a flower
As here I have found at iny feet !
0, speak, my sweet violet ! answer, and tell
How thus you've grown up, and flourished so well,
And live so contented, where lowly you dwell,
And we now by accident meet !

" The same careful hand," the meek violet said,
" That holds up the firmament, holds up my head !
And He who with azure the skies overspread,
Has painted the violet blue.
He sprinkles the stars out, above me by night ;
And sends down the sunbeams at morning, with light
To make my new coronet sparkling and bright,
When formed of a drop of his dew.

" And I've naught to fear from the dark heavy cloud, *
Or breath of the tempest, that comes strong and loud,
Where, born in the lowland, remote from the crowd,
I know and I live but for ONE.
He soon forms a mantle about me to cast,
Of long silken grass, till the rain and the blast,
And all that seemed threatening have harmlessly past,
And clouds scud before the warm sun !"