A violet was growing in the meadow, unnoticed and with bowed head; it was a dear sweet violet. Along came a young shepherdess, light of step and happy of heart, along, along Through the meadow, and sang. Ah! thinks the violet, if I were only the loveliest flower in all nature. Ah! for only a little while, till my darling had picked me and crushed me against her bosom! Ah only, ah only for a single quarter hour! But alas, alas, the girl drew near and took no heed of the violet, trampled the poor violet. It sank and died, yet still rejoiced: And if I die, at least I die through her, through her and at her feet. The poor violet! It was a dear sweet violet!