Classic Poem

You gave me flowers when we met,
White violets, white violets,
And in their hearts the evening dew
Hung trembling like the tears of vain regret.

I gave a rosebud, red and sweet,
For violets, white violets, —
The drooping head had broke its stem,
And fell in blushing beauty at your feet.

You gave a promise when we met,
Ah! violets, white violets,
I gave you silence, for the heart
Had drifted through the springtide dew and wet.

The years grow aged all too soon,
Sweet violets, white violets, —
'Mid withered buds and broken hearts,
Half mournfully, like toothless hags they croon.

You kept a promise, and I keep
Your violets, white violets, —
My silence lives, but bitter sweet,
It lies beneath the winter's snow asleep.

My heart's closed petals did not ope,
Like violets, white violets, —
It is a nun, and in its cell,
It may not light a lover's lamp with hope.

The world is wider than we knew,
And violets, white violets,
Come back each spring to kiss the earth,
And sometime , for thy heart will bloom anew!

Say not thy life's hope sadly fell
'Mid violets, dead violets, —
In springtime seek the grave of years,
Then lay upon the nunheart's cell the asphodel.