All after hastens to the noon,

 The triumph of the sun!

 And life is short, and love is brief—

 Be patient! There will be—they say

 New life, divine beyond belief,

 Somewhere, somehow, some day!

 E. Nesbit.

MARCH VIOLETS.

This busy, dusty wind that blows

This

 Along the cruel streets,

 Right to the heart of violets goes,

 And robs them of their sweets.

 And as along the cruel street

 The keen wind robs the flowers,

 So the cold kindness that we meet

 Blights these poor hearts of ours.

 But if you tend with warmth, you know,

 Your violets, they give

 Sweet scent again, as if to show

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