Sonnet. To A Violet. Poem by Susan Evance

SPRING's sweet attendant! modest simple flower,
Whose soft retiring charms the woods adorn,
How often have I wander'd at that hour,
When first appear the rosy tints of morn,
To the wild brook- there, upon mossy ground,
Thy velvet form all beautiful to view;
To catch thy breath that steals delicious round,
And mark thy pensive smile thro' tears of dew:
But then I sigh that other Vi'lets bloom
Unseen, in wilds where foot-step never trod,
Find unadmir'd, unnotic'd, there a tomb,
And mingle silent with the grassy sod;
Ah, so the scatter'd flowers of genius rise;
These bloom to charm- that, hide- neglected dies.