Down in green and shady bed,
A modest violet grew;
It's stalk was bent,it hung its head,
As if to hide from view.
And yet it was a lovely flower,
It's colour bright and fair;
It might have graced a rosy bower,
Instead of hiding there.
Yet thus it was content to bloom,
In modest tints arrayed;
And there diffused a sweet perfume,
Within the silent shade.
Then let me to the valley go,
This pretty flower to see;
That I may also learn to grow,
In sweet humility
