| Author |
Quotes |
| Christina G Rossetti | The violets whisper from the shade Which their own leaves have made: Men scent our fragrance on the air, Yet take no heed Of humble lessons we would read. |
| Dora Read Goodale | A blossom of returning light, An April flower of sun and dew; The earth and sky, the day and night Are melted in her depth of blue! |
| Dora Read Goodale | The modest, lowly violet In leaves of tender green is set; So rich she cannot hide from view, But covers all the bank with blue. |
| Edwin Arnold | Early violets blue and white Dying for their love of light. |
| Frances S Osgood | The violets thinks, with her timid blue eye, To pass for a blossom enchantingly shy. |
| Heinrich Heine | The violets prattle and titter, And gaze on the stars high above. |
| Heinrich Heine | The eyes of spring, so azure, Are peeping from the ground; They are the darling violets, That I in nosegays bound. |
| James Montgomery | The violets were past their prime, Yet their departing breath Was sweeter, in the blast of death, Than all the lavish fragrance of the time. |
| John Keats | And shade the violets, That they may bind the moss in leafy nets. |
| Julia C R Dorr | Stars will blossom in the darkness, Violets bloom beneath the snow. |
| Richard Garnett | Cold blows the wind against the hill, And cold upon the plain; I sit me by the bank, until The violets come again. |
| Robert H Newell | Surely as cometh the Winter, I know There are Spring violets under the snow. |
| Robert Herrick | Welcome, maids of honor, You doe bring In the spring, And wait upon her. |
| Elizabeth Barrett Browning | Deep violets, you liken to The kindest eyes that look on you, Without a thought disloyal. |
| James Russell Lowell | Winds wanders, and dews drip earthward, Rains fall, suns rise and set, Earth whirls, and all but to prosper A poor little violet. |
| James Russell Lowell | Violet! sweet violet! Thine eyes are full of tears, Are they wet Even yet With the thought of other years? |
| Johann Wolfgang Von Goethe | A vi'let on the meadow grew, That no one saw, that no one knew, It was a modest flower. A shepherdess pass'd by that way-- Light footed, pretty and so gay, That way she came, Softly warbling forth her lay. |
| Thomas Moore | Hath the pearl less whiteness Because of its birth? Hath the violet less brightness For growing near earth? |
| Thomas Moore | Steals timidly away, Shrinking as violets do in summer's ray. |
| Thomas Hood | The violet is a nun. |
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