Sea Violets by H.D.

This poem, Sea Violets by H.D. reminds me of my late mother.


Sea Violet

The white violet
is scented on its stalk,
the sea-violet
fragile as agate,
lies fronting all the wind
amonth the torn shells
on the and-bank.

The greater blue violets
flutter on the hill,
but who would change for these
who would change for these
one root of the white sort?

Violet
your grasp is frail
on the edge of the sand-hill,
but you catch the light-
frost, a star edges with its fire.