the violet

down in a green and shady bed,
a modest violet grew;
its stalk was bent, it hung its head
as if to hide from view.
and yet it was a lovely flower,
its 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.

by jane taylor