The Blue Violet Nigh Its Sleep Poem by Emmanuel George Cefai

The blue violet is nigh its sleep
Now that the dusk is tiptoeing by stealth
Drawing along with giant hand the curtains of day
And of its glory in the mid-day sun:
A cool wind from the west
Sings slow in the leaves and slightly shakes
Their verdant branches cooling in the shade
The gentle rustling sound
To cool refreshing sleep invites:
The violet bends its head
And into its bed prepares sleep.

It closes its eye one first, then next, mischievous violet.