A violet blossom'd on the lea,
Half hidden from the eye,
As fair a flower as you might see;
When there came tripping by
A shepherd maiden fair and young,
Lightly, lightly o'er the lea;
Care she knew not, and she sung
Merrily!
"O were I but the fairest flower
That blossoms on the lea;
If only for one little hour,
That she might gather me--
Clasp me in her bonny breast!"
Thought the little flower.
"O that in it I might rest
But an hour!"
Lack-a-day! Up came the lass,
Heeded not the violet;
Trod it down into the grass;
Though it died, 'twas happy yet.
"Trodden down although I lie,
Yet my death is very sweet--
For I cannot choose but die
At her feet!"
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