Littell's Living Age/Volume 173/Issue 2235/March Blossoms

I. the buds of blue-eyed March, Yonder I see her now: The wild white violets at her feet, The robin on the bough.

II. I, too, must gather the blooms of spring; Ah there! I have it now — The look that lights, like sudden fire, Her lip and cheek and brow.

III. We are but gathering early flowers: What think ye of it now, Ye wild white violets at our feet, Thou robin on the bough?