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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 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.

by Jane Taylor
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