Little fresh violets,

Born In the wildwood, 

Sweetly illustrating

Innocent childhood!

Shy as an antelope,

Brown as a berry, 

Free as the mountain air,

Romping and merry,

Out in the hilly patch,

Seeking for berries; 

Under the orchard tree,

Feasting on cherries; 

Trampling the clover blooms

Down 'mong the grasses; 

No voice to hinder them,

Dear lads and lasses!

Dear little innocents,

Born in the wildwood; 

Oh that all little ones

Had such a childhood! 

God's blue spread o'er them,

God's green beneath them; 

No sweeter heritage

Could we bequeath them.