Pansies When the earliest south winds softly blow Over the brown earth, and the waning snow In the last days of the discrowned March,– Before the silver tassels of the larch, Or any tiniest bud …

Pansies Tufted and bunched and ranged with careless art Here, where the paving-stones are set apart, Alert and gay and innocent of guile, The little pansies nod their heads and smile. With what a …