| Hunt and Lee, comps. The Book of the Sonnet. 1867. | | | | III. To ———. | | By John R. Tait (1834–1909) |
| | | HAVE you forgotten the blest eve we sate, | |
| Awed by the tremulous murmur of the leaves, | |
| Rustling above us from low beechen eaves?— | |
| You twining violets, with calm eyes, as Fate | |
| Serenely weaves our woof predestinate. | 5 |
| Dear flowers, the symbols of my future years! | |
| All my heart’s impulses, its hopes and fears, | |
| Heaved through my broken utterance. As the weight | |
| Of fresh-fallen rain-drops bends some gentle flower, | |
| Thus drooped your fair cheek towards me with its tears, | 10 |
| When (like a dream the memory appears) | |
| I dared to kiss you. In a purple shower | |
| Neglected fell the violets. How bright | |
| Seemed the red sunset, and the moon that night! | | | | |
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