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A violet stood in the meadow, Leaning on itself and unknown;
It was a lovely violet. There came a young shepherdess
With a light step and a happy mind, Strolling down and down
The meadow and singing.
Oh! thought the violet, if I only were the most beautiful flower in Nature,
if only for a moment. Just until sweetheart came to pick me
And press me against hear breast oh, only, oh, only
For a moment!!
But, alas! The girl came by, But did not notice the little Violet,
And she stepped on the Violet. It sank down and died, but still with a Joy:
Should I die, then let me die for her, for her,
Oh yes, by her feet.
Poor little violet! It was the sweetest Violet.