When the first violet open'd in bloom,
Was it surpris'd at its lovely perfume?
Why does not History tell us, who met
First, the sweet breath of the first violet?
Rather I'd know it than facts that are known--
As when some tyrant ascended some throne,
A battle was fought, a comet display'd,
Coals were discover'd, or steam-engines made.
I can no moment recall, ere I knew
Perfume pertain'd to those blossoms of blue;
Had the first knowledge of sweetness like this
Touch'd me to-day, what perfection of bliss!
Children with all that creation can grant
Scarcely will miss the one pleasure I want,
Just to _remember_ the day and the hour
When, by spring breezes caressingly blown,
Delicate fragrance of violet flower
First touch'd my senses, becoming my own!
And what can it be--oh, what can it be,
That has garnish'd earth with a golden grace?
What is this something that entering me
Changes my life in a minute of space?
When I first notic'd the power in his eyes--
Watching to see if they praise or condemn,
Blushing to meet them--came into the skies
Beauty that never has vanish'd from them.
When I first stopp'd in the midst of my mirth,
While my heart beat in a tremulous way
Only to see him,--came over the earth,
Glory that earth has retain'd to this day.
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