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 bowler, Instead of hiding there. Yet thus it was content to bloom, In modest tint 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.