There`s rosemary, that`s for remembrance;
pray you, love, remember.
And there is pansies, that`s for thoughts....
There`s a daisy. I would give you some violets,
but they wither`d all...
--William Shakespeare
Now LunaRed don`t you be upset about what William has said,
before days end I shall find you a fitting poem about violets!
Their fragrance is wonderful too, and lilacs ~ Oh sweet Spring hurry fast.
Dear LunaRed
This is not a poem about Violets, but taken from a story printed in my file. I am sorry that I do not know the Author`s name.
A woman wanted to visit to her native Texas. She had not been back there in awhile. her eldest brother was seriously ill. He had suffered from being in WWI when he was very young, he had been gassed.
He was still able to work farming and raising a family, but he suffered from respiratory problems for the rest of his life.
As she approached the nursing home, she picked some "wild violets" and formed a tiny bouquet. Now age eighty two, he was lying in bed, his eyesight dim, unable to see much beyond light and shadow, his entire being lit up as soon he heard his sister`s voice.
"Baby," he said with warmth. That was the nicname he always used for his sister.
She placed the violets under his nose and wrapped his fingers around their stems.
Beyond failing eyes, he instantly noticed the violet`s fragrance.
Silently he inhaled the aroma of the blooms slowly and deeply and his face was total happiness and peace.
It was as though this bouquet was a key that unlocked hundrends of memories.
He closed his eyes, he crushed the violets to his nose and breathed in deeply again, savoring the fragrance. "Oh Baby," he said with his eyes closed,
"it is a beautiful world."
Flowers bring us so much. We all have a special flower or more, we must!
again;
More than Anything,
I must have Flowers,
Always, Always.
--Claude Monet
`to feed our senses`
` for our memory ` mm*