Thomas Cowherd

(March 20, 1817 – April 4, 1907 / England)

To A Violet (Found Blooming In My Garden) - Poem by Thomas Cowherd

Beauteous, variegated flower,
That with courageous mien,
Not heeding much stern Winter's power,
Hast let thy face be seen
At such a season, and amid such dearth
Of vernal beauty, I would bid thee hail;
For charms like thine to me have wond'rous worth,
When Summer's comforts fail.

I had not thought to see a gem
Like thee, as fresh and fair
As ever graced a diadem,
Bloom in the open air
After such killing frost as we have had;
And when grim Winter had his ice bolts hurled
With double vengeance, prematurely mad
As though to chill the world.

Still thou art here in loveliness,
But lacking Spring-time's scent,
And seeming in thy charming dress,
With thy lone lot content.
The while that other plants are dead to sight,
And waiting patiently for Spring's approach,
When King Frost's forces shall have ta'en their flight,
Chased by Sol's glorious torch.

But now I bid a warm adieu,
And place this in a book
Where I can bring thee fresh to view.
When'er I choose to look.
Regretting only that I tore away
Thee from my garden bed, where thy sweet face
Lit up with smiles that nook, and made it gay,
As by a sunbeam's trace.

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Poem Submitted: Thursday, April 26, 2012

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