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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 color bright and fair;

It might have graced a rosy bower

Instead of hiding there.

Yet there 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.