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Johann Wolfgang von Goethe - The Violet
Work rating: Medium

UPON the mead a violet stood,
Retiring, and of modest mood,

In truth, a violet fair.
Then came a youthful shepherdess,
And roam`d with sprightly joyousness,
And blithely woo`d

With carols sweet the air

"Ah!" thought the violet, "had I been
For but the smallest moment e`en

Nature`s most beauteous flower,
`Till gather`d by my love, and press`d,
When weary, `gainst her gentle breast,
For e`en, for e`en

One quarter of an hour!"

Alas! alas! the maid drew nigh,
The violet failed to meet her eye,

She crush`d the violet sweet.
It sank and died, yet murmur`d not:
"And if I die, oh, happy lot,
For her I die,

And at her very feet!"
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