letra de alice dunbar nelson - sonnet - patricia rodriguez
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i had not thought of violets late
the wild, shy kind that spring beneath your feet
in wistful april days, when lovers mate
and wander through the fields in raptures sweet
the thought of violets meant florists’ shops
and bows and pins, and perfumed papers fine;
and garish lights, and mincing little fops
and cabarets and soaps, and deadening wines
so far from sweet real things my thoughts had strayed
i had forgot wide fields; and clear brown streams;
the perfect loveliness that god has made,—
wild violets shy and heaven-mounting dreams
and now—unwittingly, you’ve made me dream
of violets, and my soul’s forgotten gleam
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