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Violets! Violets!" This was the cry I heard As I passed through the street of a city; And quickly my heart was stirred To an incomprehensible pity, At the undertone of the cry; For it seemed like the voice of one Who was stricken, and all undone, Who was only longing to die.

Violets! Violets! Violets!" The voice came nearer still. "Surely," I said, "it is May, And out on valley and hill, The violets blooming to-day, Send this invitation to me To come and be with them once more;