Like violets pale i' the Spring o' the year 
  Came my Love's sad eyes to my youth;
Wan and dim with many a tear,
  But the sweeter for that in sooth: 
      Wet and dim,
      Tender and true,
      Violet eyes 
      Of the sweetest blue.

Like pansies dark i' the June o' the year
  Grow my Love's glad eyes to my prime;
Rich with the purple splendour clear
  Of their thoughtful bliss sublime: 
      Deep and dark,
      Solemn and true,
      Pansy eyes 
      Of the noblest blue.