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The Violet by June Taylor
Down in the green and shady bed, a modest violet grew, its stalk was bent, it hang its head, as if to hide from view.
And yet it was a lovely flower, no colours 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 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.
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