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A Few More Verses

Chapter 52: A WITHERED VIOLET.

By Susan Coolidge

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About This Book

A collection of short lyrical poems that range from contemplative religious meditations and scriptural-themed pieces to domestic and natural scenes addressing love, consolation, loss, and moral reflection. The verse mixes brief lyrics, sonnets, and occasional poems, using clear imagery of sea, dawn, and everyday life to examine faith, hope, patience, and small acts of kindness. Tone moves between consoling, meditative, and gently optimistic, favoring reflective insight and moral consolation over narrative progression.

A WITHERED VIOLET.

I PLUCKED a purple violet,

Its petals were all dewy wet,

I held it tightly for an hour,

And then I dropped the faded flower;

Dropped it and lost unconsciously,

Scarce thinking of the how or why.

’Twas hours since, but my fingers yet

Are scented with the violet;

The fragrant spell, invisible,

Has caught and holds me in it’s sway.

I would not flee if flight might be;

The violet still rules my day.

I plucked a flower when life was young,

I chose it all the flowers among.

It was so fresh, it was so fair,

Heaven’s very dew seemed cradled there;

A little while it smiled in morn,

And then it withered and was gone.

’Tis long years since, but every hour

I taste the perfume of that flower.

Still it endures, and all day pours

A balm of fragrance on the way.

I catch its breath high over death;

A memory still rules my day.