Classic Poem

Oh, lovely, lovely violets,
So dainty and so blue,
So modest yet so beautiful,
Whene'er I look at you

I mind me of a gone-by day,
When in a woodland glade,
Beside a purling brooklet,
Beneath an elm's shade.

We sat and plucked the violets
That blossomed by us there,
Shedding their sweet perfume
Upon the woodland air.

We made sweet nose-gays of their blooms,
We tried our fortunes, too,
With them, though long ago that's been,
They told our fortunes true.