1 <br />When she gave me those violets now fading away, <br />But dearer than roses bright-blooming to day, <br />She cried with a smile, for my heart she could see, <br />'You may drop them, you know, when you've parted from me.' <br /> <br />2 <br />They were press'd to my lips, not a word could I speak, <br />But I saw a bright blush gently steal o'er her cheek <br />As she leant on her hand - 'twas the first blush of love- <br />Ah, no, 'twas the shade of her rose-coloured glove. <br /> <br />***** <br /> <br />1 <br />'Oh! what a lovely blue,' cried Azilie, <br />Showing a bunch of violets to me; <br />'Oh! what a lovely blue,' my heart replies, <br />For I was fondly gazing on her eyes. <br /> <br />2 <br />'Who says they are not sweet?' she smiling said, <br />And held them near her lips of rosy red- <br />Those pouting lips; I only could repeat <br />In flattering tones, 'Who says they are not sweet?' <br /> <br />****** <br /> <br />1 <br />Flowers, ye have faded too quickly away, <br />Still are ye lovely, and loved in decay; <br />Nor would I give you for all the bright flowers, <br />Culled by the fairies in subterrene bowers. <br /> <br />2 <br />For she who gave them more bright is and dear <br />Than fairies or angels in visions appear; <br />And looking upon them, I dream that I see <br />The lips and the eyes of the young Azilie.<br /><br />Peter John Allan<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/azilie-s-bouquet/
