Poems (Howard)/Pansies
For works with similar titles, see Pansies.
Pansies.
Pansies, pansies everywhere! Just one blooming acre—Single, double, dark, and fair, Reigning favorites, their parterre Recompensing skill and care Of some pansy-maker.
Innocent and saucy-eyed, Looking straight to heaven, Some are standing close beside Others drooping, mortified, As if to their conscious pride Rude rebuff were given.
One there is that looks to me, Tall and slim and speckled, Like a true facsimile Of a female that I see Every clay, a spinster she, Angular and freckled.
Still another, dewy wet, Pink, with edges golden, Like grandmother's china set, Given to her namesake pet Years ago; she has it yet, Heirloom quaint and olden.
Every color 'neath the sun! In each fair creation Seems a miracle were done, While we slumbered, by some one, But the florist answers, "None! Only cultivation."
Pansies in the market sold, Gathered from the valleys; Royal texture like the oldFashioned velvet marigold. Petals lapping, fold on fold, Round each fragrant chalice.
Hearts-ease on a placque I see, Artist Laura painted; Talent of a high degree, Real pansy-gift, hath she, And with fame will doubtless be Very soon acquainted.
Pansy blossoms in my room, Making me sad-hearted; For I saw their purple bloom And inhaled their sweet perfume Once above a little tomb, In the years departed.
Eyes of blue that softly beamed Had that angel sister; Golden hair like sunlight gleamed In her coffin, and it seemed That of her we always dreamed, And forever missed her.