THE VIOLET
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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 there it was content to bloom, In modest tints arrayed; And there diffused its sweet perfume Within its silent shade.
Then let me to the village go This pretty flower to see, That I may also learn to grow In sweet humility. Jane Taylor (1783 – 1824) who also wrote ‘Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Star’ with her sister Ann |
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SNOWDROPS
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"Where are the snowdrops?" said the sun. "Dead", said the frost," buried and lost, every one." "A foolish answer", said the sun, "they did not die, asleep they lie, every one". "And I will awake them", said the sun, "into the light, all clad in white, every one".
"It’s rather dark in the earth today", said one little bulb to its brother, "but I thought that I felt a sunbeam’s ray. We must strive and grow ‘till we find our way", And they nestled close to each other.
They struggled and strived by day and by night, ‘Til two little snowdrops, in green and white, rose out of the darkness and into the light, And softly kissed each other. Annie Matheson (1853 – 1924) |