The Child and the Violets.
“Oh, mother, mother!” said the child,
“I saw the violets blue;
Thousands were there, all growing wild;
Mother, I tell you true!
They sat so close upon the ground,
Here and there, and all around,
It seemed as if they had no stems,
And all the grass was strown with gems.
“‘Whence came ye, flowers?’ I asked them all;
They would not say a word;
Yet something seemed to hear my call,
And near me was a bird.
I turned mine eye,—he flew away,—
Up he went with joyous lay;
And seemed to sing, as high he flew,
‘From yonder sky come violets blue.’”
The mother answered thus the child:
“The bird did tell you true;
These pretty violets, low and wild,
Of heaven’s own azure hue,
Though here they have their bloom and birth,
And draw their sustenance from earth,
Still One, who fills immensity,
Made these sweet flowers for you and me.”
