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About this Poem 

From Ballads and Songs (London: Cassell and Company, 1896).

 

SONG OF THE VIOLET.

  A humble flower long time I pined
    Upon the solitary plain,
  And trembled at the angry wind,
    And shrunk before the bitter rain.
  And oh! 'twas in a blessed hour
    A passing wanderer chanced to see,
  And, pitying the lonely flower,
    To stoop and gather me.

  I fear no more the tempest rude,
    On dreary heath no more I pine,
  But left my cheerless solitude,
    To deck the breast of Caroline.
  Alas our days are brief at best,
    Nor long I fear will mine endure,
  Though shelter'd here upon a breast
    So gentle and so pure.

  It draws the fragrance from my leaves,
    It robs me of my sweetest breath,
  And every time it falls and heaves,
    It warns me of my coming death.
  But one I know would glad forego
    All joys of life to be as I;
  An hour to rest on that sweet breast,
    And then, contented, die!

This poem is in the public domain. 

This poem is in the public domain. 

William Makepeace Thackeray

William Makepeace Thackeray, born July 18, 1811, was an English writer best known for his novels, particularly The History of Henry Esmond, Esq. (The Mershon Company Publishers, 1852) and Vanity Fair (Bradbury and Evans, 1848). While in school, Thackeray began writing poems, which he published in a number of magazines, chiefly Fraser and Punch. He died on December 24, 1863.

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  Christmas is here:
  Winds whistle shrill,
  Icy and chill,
  Little care we:
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  Weather without,
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  Once on the boughs
  Birds of rare plume
  Sang, in its bloom;
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  Galliant gents and lovely ladies,
    List a tail vich late befel,
  Vich I heard it, bein on duty,
    At the Pleace Hoffice, Clerkenwell.

  Praps you know the Fondling Chapel,
    Vere the little children sings:
  (Lor! I likes to hear on Sundies
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  In this street there
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  Before I lost my five poor wits,
  I mind me of a Romish clerk,
  Who sang how Care, the phantom dark,
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  Methought I saw the grisly sprite
  Jump up but now behind my Knight.

  And though he gallop as he may,
  I mark that cursed monster black
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