Bliss Carman, et al., eds. The World’s Best Poetry. 1904.
Poems of Home: II. For ChildrenA Belated Violet
Oliver Herford (18631935)V
Dark the clouds that hurried by;
Very rough the autumn breeze
Shouting rudely to the trees.
Through the withered leaves and mold
Peered a violet all in dread—
“Where, oh, where is spring?” she said.
She may call in vain for spring.”
And the grasses whispered low,
“We must never let her know.”
“Hush! a violet,” sobbed the trees,
“Thinks it ’s spring,—poor child, we fear
She will die if she should hear!”
Tenderly he murmured, “Stay!”
To a late thrush on the wing,
“Stay with her one day and sing!”
That the sun came out to hear,
And, in answer to her song,
Beamed on violet all day long;
Fluttered with a spring-like air.
Then the violet raised her head,—
“Spring has come at last!” she said.
All that night—but happier yet,
When the dawn came dark with snow,
Violet never woke to know.