Stories in Verse

Stories in Verse

Title: Stories in Verse Author: Henry Abbey Release Date: October 16, 2007 [EBook #23037] Language: English Original Publication: , New York, A.D.F. Randolph & co., 1869. Credits: Produced by Marilynda Fraser-Cunliffe, storm and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This file was made using scans of public domain works from the University of Michigan Digital Libraries.) "Violets! Violets! Violets!" This was the cry I heard As I passed through the street of a city; And quickly my heart was stirred To an incomprehensible pity, At the undertone of the cry; For it seemed like the voice of one Who was stricken, and all undone, Who was only longing to die. "Violets! Violets! Violets!" The voice came nearer still. "Surely," I said, "it is May, And out on valley and hill, The violets blooming to-day, Send this invitation to me To come and be with them once more; [Pg 2]I know they are dear as can be, And I hate the town with its roar." "Violets! Violets! Violets!" Children of sun and of dew, Flakes of the blue of the sky, There is somebody calling to you Who seems to be longing to die; Yet violets are so sweet They can scarcely have dealings with death. Can it be, that the dying breath, That comes from the one last beat Of a true heart, turns to the flowers? "Violets! Violets! Violets!" The crier is near me at last. With my eyes I am holding her fast. She is a lovely seller of flowers. She is one whom the town devours In its jaws of bustle and strife. How poverty grinds down a life; For, lost in the slime of a city, What is a beautiful face? Few are they who have pity For loveliness in disgrace. Yet she that I hold with my eyes, Who seems so modest and wise, Has not yet fallen, I am sure. She has nobly learned to endure. Large, and mournful, and meek, [Pg 3]Her eyes seem to drink from my own. Her curls are carelessly thrown Back from white shoulder and cheek; And her lips seem strawberries, lost In some Arctic country of frost. The slightest curve on a face, May give an expression unmeet; Yet hers is so perfect and sweet, And shaped with such delicate grace, Its loveliness is complete. "Violets! Violets! Violets!" I hear the cry once more; But not as I heard it before. It whispers no more of death; But only of odorous breath, And modest flowers, and life. I purchased a cluster, so rife With the touch of her tapering hand, I seem to hold it in mine. I would I could understand, Why a touch seems so divine. ......Buy Now (To Read More)

Product details

Ebook Number: 23037
Author: Abbey, Henry
Release Date: Oct 16, 2007
Format: eBook
Language: English
Publisher: New York, A.D.F. Randolph & co.
Publication Date: 1869