Within a little woodland dell
I saw a modest violet dwell
Beneath a shady stone.
And all around the woodland air
Wafted her perfumed presence there,
E’er since she first had grown.
Hard by there grew a daisy, white,
The very picture of delight
To every wandering eye.
And so she smiled a happy smile,
Nodding and curtsying all the while
To every passerby.
But some with busy thoughts passed by
And so they the daisy did not spy
Nor see her charm and grace.
“What vulgar people,” she would say,
“Who not the slightest heed will pay
“To my pretty face.”
This gave her food for thought, and so,
She now decided she would grow
As high as she would dare.
But soon the sun shone hotly down,
The milk-white petals turned to brown,
She murmured “ So unfair!”
The little violet viewed the sight,
And mourned her neighbour’s sorry plight
Within her leafy bower.
“No one now will ever know,
“That once upon this spot did grow
“A vain and foolish flower.”
Softly she closed her amethyst eyes
And sent her thanks up o’er the skies
For her tiny room.
Though few might find her she did not care,
And still with those around she'd share
Her gentle, sweet perfume.
