Pansies for ladies all--(I wis
That none who wear such brooches miss
A jewel in the mirror).

Pansies for ladies all--(I wis
That none who wear such brooches miss
A jewel in the mirror).

I send thee pansies while the year is young,
Yellow as sunshine, purple as the night;
Flowers read more

I send thee pansies while the year is young,
Yellow as sunshine, purple as the night;
Flowers of remembrance, ever fondly sung
By all the chiefest of the Sons of Light;
And if in recollection lives regret
For wasted days and dreams that were not true,
I tell thee that the "pansy freak'd with jet"
Is still the heart's ease that the poets knew
Take all the sweetness of a gift unsought,
And for the pansies send me back a thought.

Heart's ease of pansy, pleasure or thought,
Which would the picture give us of these?
Surely the read more

Heart's ease of pansy, pleasure or thought,
Which would the picture give us of these?
Surely the heart that conceived it sought
Heart's ease.

Pansies? You praise the ones that grow today
Here in the garden; had you seen the place
read more

Pansies? You praise the ones that grow today
Here in the garden; had you seen the place
When Sutherland was living!
Here they grew,
From blue to deeper blue, in midst of each
A golden dazzle like a glimmering star,
Each broader, bigger than a silver crown;
While here the weaver sat, his labor done,
Watching his azure pets and rearing them,
Until they seem'd to know his step and touch,
And stir beneath his smile like living things:
The very sunshine loved them, and would lie
Here happy, coming early, lingering late,
Because they were so fair.

Darker than darkest pansies.

Darker than darkest pansies.

The beauteous pansies rise
In purple, gold, and blue,
With tints of rainbow hue
read more

The beauteous pansies rise
In purple, gold, and blue,
With tints of rainbow hue
Mocking the sunset skies.

Yet marked O where the bolt of Cupid fell.
It fell upon a little western flower,
Before read more

Yet marked O where the bolt of Cupid fell.
It fell upon a little western flower,
Before milk-white, now purple with love's wound,
And maidens call it love-in-idleness.

The delicate thought, that cannot find expression,
For ruder speech too fair,
That, like thy petals, trembles read more

The delicate thought, that cannot find expression,
For ruder speech too fair,
That, like thy petals, trembles in possession,
And scatters on the air.

They are all in the lily-bed, cuddled close together--
Purple, Yellow-cap, and little Baby-blue;
How they ever read more

They are all in the lily-bed, cuddled close together--
Purple, Yellow-cap, and little Baby-blue;
How they ever got there you must ask the April weather,
The morning and the evening winds, the sunshine and the dew.