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 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 its 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. JANE TAYLOR