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.