Born in the night and christened with the dew,
The violet lifts its face for morning’s kiss;
And each fair petal, filled with Nature’s bliss,
Weaves from the sunshine a sweet robe of blue.
The birds look down and wonder how it grew,
For yesterday the leaves where now it is
Lay green i’ the grass, and nought was like to this,
Earth’s earliest counterfeit of Heaven’s hue.
The shy hepatica; the showdrop white;
The trebly mounted trillium; the blaze
Of golden daffodil with sunny rays—
Have all arisen in their beauty bright;
But none of Flora’s first-born can compare,
With this blue-blossomed darling of the air.