“Violets, come out! Come out!’
They come, as if they hear.
There is, there is, there is no doubt
That friendly spring is here!
Swoln buds on trees get set to pop,
So full they are with love;
Their love of living just won’t stop,
They are sweet signals of!
So soon they’ll laugh with baby green,
Make barren trees look brave;
Fair flowers then, will too be seen,
All orchards, gardens, wave!
Yet violets, they come the first,
So quiet, low and shy.
So well have they their parts rehearsed
Our eyes applaud with—“Hi.”