What though thy bed be frozen earth, Thy cloak the chilling blast; What though no mate to clear thy path, Thy sky with gloom o'ercast - What though of love itself doth fail, Thy fragrance strewed in vain; What though if bad o'er good prevail, And vice o'er virtue reign - Change not thy nature, gentle bloom, Thou violet, sweet and pure, But ever pour thy sweet perfume Unasked, unstinted, sure !