Wild Violets

A Very Nearly Wordless Wednesday

What is it?

It’s Clara’s own springtime perfume concoction.
God’s Will
I know, I know where violets blow
Upon a sweet hillside,
And very bashfully they grow
And in the grasses hide—
It is the fairest field, I trow,
In the whole world wide.
One spring I saw two lassies go,
Brown cheek and laughing eye;
They swung their aprons to and [...]