Dear little Violet,
Don’t be afraid!
Lift your blue eyes
From the rock’s mossy shade!
All the birds call for you
Out of the sky:
May is here, waiting,
And here, too, am I.
Why do you shiver so,
Violet sweet?
Soft is the meadow-grass
Under my feet.
Wrapped in your hood of green,
Violet, why
Peep from your earth-door
So silent and shy?
Trickle the little brooks
Close to your bed;
Softest of fleecy clouds
Float overhead;
“Ready and waiting!”
The slender reeds sigh:
“Ready and waiting!”
We sing–May and I.
Come, pretty Violet,
Winter’s away:
Come, for without you
May isn’t May.
Down through the sunshine
Wings flutter and fly;–
Quick, little Violet,
Open your eye!
Hear the rain whisper,
“Dear Violet, come!”
How can you stay
In your underground home?
Up in the pine-boughs
For you the winds sigh.
Homesick to see you,
Are we–May and I.
Ha! though you care not
For call or for shout,
Yon troop of sunbeams
Are winning you out.
Now all is beautiful
Under the sky:
May’s here–and violets!
Winter, good-by!
Lucy Larcom.
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