VIOLET-PLANTING.

The heavy apple-trees Are shaking off their snow in breezy play; The frail anemones Have fallen, fading, from the lap of May; Lanterned with white the chestnut-branches wave, And all the woods are gay. Come, children, come away, And we will make a flower-bed to-day About our dear one's grave! Oh, if we could but tell the wild-flowers where Lies his dear head, gloried with sunny hair, So noble and so fair, How would they haste to bloom and weep above The heart that loved them with so fond a love! Come, children, come! From the sweet, ferny meads, Wherein he used to walk in days of yore,— From the green path that leads, Where the long dusty road seems wearisome, Up to his father's door,— Gather the tender shoots Of budding promise, fragrance, and delight, Fresh-sprouting violet-roots, That, when the first June night Shall draw about his bed its fragrant gloom, This grave-mound may be bathed in balmy bloom, With loving memories eloquently dumb. Come, children, come! No more, alas, alas! O fairest blossoms which the wild bee sips, Along your pleasant places shall he pass, Ere from your freshened leaves the night-dew drips, Culling your blooms in handfuls from the grass, Pressing your tender faces to his lips,— Ah, never any more! Yet I recall, a little while before He passed behind this mystery of death, How, bringing home great handfuls, won away From the dark wood-haunts where he loved to stray Until his dewy garments were replete With wafts of odorous breath, With sods all mossy-sweet And all awake and purple with new bloom He filled and crowded every window-seat, Until each pleasant room Was fragrant with your mystical perfume: Now vainly do I watch beside the door,— Ah, never any more! Alas, how could I know That I so soon should strew Your blossoms, warm with tears, above his head? That your wet roots would cling About the hand that wears his bridal ring, When he who placed it there lay cold and dead? O violets, live and grow, That, ere the bright days go, This turf may be with rarest beauty crowned!— Nay, shrink not from my touch, For these are careful and most loving hands, Fearing and hoping much, Which thus disturb your fair and wondering bands, But to transfer them to more holy ground. Dear violets, bloom and live! To this beloved tomb Your beauty and your bloom Are the most precious tribute we can give. And, oh, if your sweet soul of odor goes, Blended with the clear trills of singing-birds, Farther than my poor speech Or wailing cry can reach Into that realm of shadowy repose Toward which I blindly yearn, Praying in silence, "Oh, my love, return!" Yet dare not try to touch with groping words, So far it seems, and sweet,— That realm wherein I may not hope to be Until my wayworn feet Put off the shoes of this mortality,— Oh, let your incense-breath, Laden with all this weight of love and woe For him who went away so long ago, Bridge for me Time and Death! Blow, violets, blow! And tell him in your blooming, o'er and o'er, How in the places which he used to know His name is still breathed fondly as of yore; Tell him how often, in the dear old ways Where bloomed our yesterdays, The radiant days which I shall find no more, My lingering footsteps shake The dew-drops from your leaves, for his dear sake. Wake, blue eyes, wake! The earliest breath of June Blows the white tassels from the cherry-boughs, And in the deepest shadow of the noon The mild-eyed oxen browse. How tranquilly he sleeps, He, whom so bitterly we mourn as dead!— Although the new month sweeps The over-blossomed spring-flower from his bed, Giving fresh buds therefor,— Although beside him still Love waits and weeps, And yonder goes the war. Wake, violets, wake! Open your blue eyes wide! Watch faithfully his lonely pillow here; Let no rude foot-fall break Your slender stems, nor crush your leaves aside; See that no harm comes near The dust to me so dear;— O violets, hear! The clouds hang low and heavy with warm rain,— And when I come again, Lo, with your blossoms his loved grave shall be Blue as the marvellous sea Laving the borders of his Italy!