Heart’s ease

What is it with pansies?  Do they ever die? I planted them in my window box on the balcony months ago and they are still thriving despite snow, hail, high winds and rain.

They must have a very hardy constitution to survive the winter we have just endured and I will be sorry to see them go.


O give me not red roses,
That early dews have wet!
They speak to me of kisses
That are remembered yet.

O bring me not white roses,
That summer winds have drest!
For once I placed white roses
Upon a quiet breast.

But bring me purple pansies
If so you wish to please,
For them I have affection;
For pansies are “heart’s ease”.

Louisa Cooke Don-Carlos


3 thoughts on “Heart’s ease

  1. What a lovely poem! and such a sweet picture of thse lovely plants, there’s something eternally optimistic about pansies (and enduring). They do it all so gracefully and effortlessly too. They’re a very underated flower.

  2. Pansies
    R. C. Lehmann

    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 whispering and a lulling sound
    They watch the children sport about the ground,
    Longing, it seems, to join the pretty play
    That laughs and runs the light-winged hours away.

    And other children long ago there were
    Who shone and played and made the garden fair,
    To whom the pansies in their robes of white
    And gold and purple gave a welcome bright.

    Gone are those voices, but the others came.
    Joyous and free, whose spirit was the same;
    And other pansies, robed as those of old,
    Peeped up and smiled in purple, white and gold.

    For pansies are, I think, the little gleams
    Of children’s visions from a world of dreams,
    Jewels of innocence and joy and mirth,
    Alight with laughter as they fall to earth.

    Below, the ancient guardian, it may hap,
    The kindly mother, takes them in her lap,
    Decks them with glowing petals and replaces
    In the glad air the friendly pansy-faces.

    So tread not rashly, children, lest you crush
    A part of childhood in a thoughtless rush.
    Would you not treat them gently if you knew
    Pansies are little bits of children too?

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