Thy parent sun, who bade thee view
 Pale skies, and chilling moisture sip,
Has bathed thee in his own bright hue,
 And streaked with jet thy glowing lip.
Yet slight thy form, and low thy seat,
 And earthward bent thy gentle eye,
Unapt the passing view to meet
 When loftier flowers are flaunting nigh.
Oft, in the sunless April day,
Thy early smile has stayed my walk;
But midst the gorgeous blooms of May,
I passed thee on thy humble stalk.
So they, who climb to wealth, forget
 The friends in darker fortunes tried.
I copied them—but I regret
 That I should ape the ways of pride.
And when again the genial hour
Here Bryant is connecting nature to life and friendships. Some friendships do not last due to one’s wealth and eventually leaving their friend behind. Bryant is suggesting that true and genuine friends are hard to find.
The Yellow Violet