1
When she gave me those violets now fading away,
But dearer than roses bright-blooming to day,
She cried with a smile, for my heart she could see,
“You may drop them, you know, when you’ve parted from me.”
2
They were press’d to my lips, not a word could I speak,
But I saw a bright blush gently steal o’er her cheek
As she leant on her hand – ’twas the first blush of love-
Ah, no, ’twas the shade of her rose-coloured glove.
*****
1
“Oh! what a lovely blue,” cried Azilie,
Showing a bunch of violets to me;
“Oh! what a lovely blue,” my heart replies,
For I was fondly gazing on her eyes.
2
“Who says they are not sweet?” she smiling said,
And held them near her lips of rosy red-
Those pouting lips; I only could repeat
In flattering tones, “Who says they are not sweet?”
******
1
Flowers, ye have faded too quickly away,
Still are ye lovely, and loved in decay;
Nor would I give you for all the bright flowers,
Culled by the fairies in subterrene bowers.
2
For she who gave them more bright is and dear
Than fairies or angels in visions appear;
And looking upon them, I dream that I see
The lips and the eyes of the young Azilie.
(Peter John Allan)
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Based on Topics: Love Poems, Youth Poems, Flowers Poems, Smiling Poems, Speaking Poems, Fairy PoemsBased on Keywords: rose-coloured, subterrene