Gather violets white and blue,
Where the southern zephyrs play;
Bring them sparkling with the dew,—
With the blessed dew of May.
Let me fold them to my breast,
Emblems sweet of earthly bliss;
Ha! they love to be caressed,
For they give me kiss for kiss.
How my weary heart doth yearn,
Touched as by a hand Divine,
While their soft blue eyes they turn
Full of sympathy to mine!
Do they know how much I sigh
For the meadows where they grew?
For the forest and the sky,
Where they caught their azure hue?
There is One who knows it all,—
To his loving arms I flee:
Oh, he hears my feeblest call,
And I know he pities me.
He ere long will take my hand
Saying tenderly, “Arise!”
He will lead me to the land
Where no blossom ever dies.