The snowdrop and primrose our woodlands adorn, and violets bathe in the wet o' the morn.

The snowdrop and primrose our woodlands adorn, and violets bathe in the wet o' the morn.

Welcome, maids of honor, You doe bring In the spring, And wait upon her.

Surely as cometh the Winter, I know There are Spring violets under the snow.

The year's at the spring / And day's at the morn; / Morning's at seven; / The hillside's dew-pearled; / The lark's on the wing; / The snail's on the thorn; / God's in his heaven - / All's right with the world!

We are violets blue, For our sweetness found Careless in the mossy shades, Looking on the ground. Love's dropp'd eyelids and a kiss,-- Such our breath and blueness is. - Leigh Hunt (James Henry Leigh Hunt),