Its petals were all dewy wet,

I held it tightly for an hour,

And then I dropped the faded flower;

Dropped it and lost unconsciously,

Scarce thinking of the how or why.

’Twas hours since, but my fingers yet

Are scented with the violet;

The fragrant spell, invisible,

Has caught and holds me in it’s sway.

I would not flee if flight might be;

The violet still rules my day.

I plucked a flower when life was young,

I chose it all the flowers among.

It was so fresh, it was so fair,

A little while it smiled in morn,

And then it withered and was gone.

’Tis long years since, but every hour

I taste the perfume of that flower.

Still it endures, and all day pours

A balm of fragrance on the way.

I catch its breath high over death;

A memory still rules my day.