Little fresh violets,

Born in the wildwood,

Sweetly illustrating

Innocent childhood;

Shy as the antelope—

Brown as a berry—

Free as the mountain air,

Romping and merry.

Blue eyes and hazel eyes

Peep from the hedges,

Shaded by sun-bonnets

Frayed at the edges.

Up in the apple-trees,

Heedless of danger,

Manhood in embryo

Stares at the stranger.

Out in the hilly patch,

Seeking the berries—

Under the orchard tree,

Feasting on cherries—

Tramping the clover blooms

Down 'mong the grasses,

No voice to hinder them,

Dear lads and lasses.

No grim propriety—

 No interdiction;

Free as the birdlings

From city restriction!

Coining the purest blood,

Strength'ning each muscle,

Donning health armor

'Gainst life's coming bustle!


Dear little innocents!

Born in the wildwood;

Oh, that all little ones

Had such a childhood!

God's blue spread over them,

God's green beneath their,

No sweeter heritage

Could we bequeath them.




Poems of home Life