A Poem of Spring – "A Maiden Song"

1889

A MAIDEN SONG.

She ties her strings of lighted hair,
And o'er her comely forehead bare
She nimbly draws a wimple;
With lissome speed athwart the mead
She sings through cheeks that simple:
"Oh, violets are blowing!"

Her buoyant arm a basket swings;
The boyish winds her kirtle toss,
And rimple o'er her tresses' floss;
With sidling ear she seems to hear
A voice that sings to silver strings:
"Oh, violets are blowing!"

The sweeping swallows dive to set
In airy rings a coronet
Upon her head that dances,
And on the bill of birds that trill
The burden sweet she fancies:
"Oh, violets are blowing!"

Within the brooks that break away
To bargain at the booths of spring,
She drops her face, and hears them sing
Of sunbeams' worth and sweets of earth,
But with their lay she dreams they say:
"Oh, violets are blowing!"

Through grasses lush, with rise and dip,
Along her winged ankles trip,
Where thoughts of spring are vieing,
To where she hears with woodland ears
The fairies softly crying:
"Oh, violets are blowing!"

—Edward A. Valentine in N. Y. World.

—The Pittsburgh Post, Pittsburgh, PA, April 20, 1889, page 4.