A Story of a Violet
Lingering on the hillside, he watched with rapturous gaze
A wondrous scene, the sunset, with all its brilliant rays.
'' How beautiful,'' he murmured; but did not stoop to see
That 'neath his foot upon the sod was wrought a tragedy.
For while he viewed enraptured, the glorious western sky,
He'd crushed a little violet that grew obscure and shy.
But the golden sun while setting had witnessed what took place;
And a look of pain and sadness appeared to cross his face.
'' Oh, heedless man,'' he seemed to say in anguish and despair,
'' You have spoiled my handiwork which I have cherished there.
" I 've chased away the winter, and brought the spring about,
And shed my brightest, warmest rays to coax that flower out.''
The sun then wrapped in sorrow, slowly sank from sight;
And soon the twilight shadows gave place to final night.
Then about the little hillside there hung a misty cloud;
Some thought 'twas merely rising fog, methinks 'twas
All thru that night of silence, the stars a vigil kept.
'Tis said, that for a time all Nature must have wept;
For lo, when morning came again, the whole hillside was wet,
Ah, not with dew, but glistening tears shed for the violet.
J. Y. Turner.