A violet by a mossy stone Half-hidden from the eye! Fair, as a star, when only one Is shining in the sky!

She stands alone, and sweetly born Where softest winds do sigh, I scarcely knew it, but by morn I felt her quiet nigh.

So small but proud, as one could conjure, With dewdrops, bright and clear, No grandeur speaks; so sweet my flower, A fleeting lady dear.

• William Wordsworth