The Violet.

A poem by John Hartley

Little simple violet,
Glittering with dewy wet,
Hidden by protecting grass
All unheeded we should pass
Were it not the rich perfume,
Leads us on to find the bloom
Which so modestly does dwell,
Sweetly scenting all the dell.

Simple little violet; -
Lessons I shall ne'er forget
By thy modest mien were taught, -
Rich in peace, - with wisdom fraught.
Oft I've laid me down to rest,
With thy blossoms on my breast;
Screen'd from noontide's sunny flood,
By some monarch of the wood.

I have thought and dreamed of thee,
Clad in such simplicity;
Yet so rich in fragrance sweet,
That exhales from thy retreat;
And I've seen the gaudy flower
Blest alone with beauty's dower; -
Have looked, - admired, - then bid them go, -
Violet, - I love thee so.

Rival, thou hast none to fear,
For to me thou art most dear; -
Buttercups and daisies vie,
'With thy charms to please the eye,
Roses red and lillies white,
All enchanting to the sight;
Yield me joys sincere, but yet
Thou'rt my favorite, - Violet.

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