SENT IN A LITTLE BOX. <br /> <br />LET them lie, yes, let them lie, <br />They'll be dead to-morrow: <br />Lift the lid up quietly <br />As you'd lift the mystery <br />Of a shrouded sorrow. <br /> <br />Let them lie, the fragrant things, <br />Their sweet souls thus giving: <br />Let no breezes' ambient wings, <br />And no useless water-springs <br />Lure them into living. <br /> <br />They have lived--they live no more: <br />Nothing can requite them <br />For the gentle life they bore <br />And up-yielded in full store <br />While it did delight them. <br /> <br />Yet, poor flowers, not sad to die <br />In the hand that slew ye, <br />Did ye leave the open sky, <br />And the winds that wandered by, <br />And the bees that knew ye. <br /> <br />Giving up a small earth place, <br />And a day of blooming, <br />Here to lie in narrow space, <br />Smiling in this sickly face, <br />This dull air perfuming? <br /> <br />O my pretty violets dead, <br />Coffined from all gazes, <br />We will also smiling shed <br />Out of our flowers witherèd, <br />Perfume of sweet praises. <br /> <br />And as ye, for this poor sake, <br />Love with life are buying, <br />So, I doubt not, ONE will make <br />All our gathered flowers to take <br />Richer scent through dying.<br /><br />Dinah Maria Mulock Craik<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/violets-5/
