The Gazette

POETRY.

THE VIOLET.

Serene is the morning, the lark leaves its nest,
And finds a fit salute to the season;
The sun with his splendor embroiders the sward,
And brightens the dews on the lea;
While the sons of the South to its indulgence give range,
And slumber the price of their beauty.

Let Eve's blooming daughters, the garden survey,
And make their remarks on the flowers.
The gaudy Tulip deserves as ye walk,
How stunning the gloss of its hue,
How proud and how stately it stands on its stalk,
In beauty's diversity.

From the Rose, the Carnation, the Pink, and the Clove,
What odors incessantly springing;
The Zephyr borrows a richer perfume from the grove,
As it brushes the leaves with its wing.

Air! from the west in her purse, she arrays
See the Violet humbly reclining;
In modest concealment she sleeps on the day,
Yet none can exceed her in sweets;
So humble, that tho' with unrivalled grace,
She might e'en a palace adorn,
She oft in the hedge hides her innocent face,
And grows at the foot of the Thorn.

So Beauty, ye fair ones, is doubly refin'd,
When modesty heightens its charms,
When meekness within adds a gem to the mind,
The heart of each Suitor it warms.

Let none talk of Venus and all her proud train,
The graces that wait on her salle,
'Tis modesty only my notice shall gain;
This Violet surpasses them all.