I KNOW, I know where violets blow Upon a sweet hillside, And very bashfully they grow And in the grasses hide -- It is the fairest field, I trow, In the whole world wide. One spring I saw two lassies go, Brown cheek and laughing eye; They swung their aprons to and fro, They filled them very high With violets -- then whispered low So strange, I wondered why. I know where violet tendrils creep And crumbled tombstones lie, The green churchyard is silence-deep; The village folk go by, And lassies laugh and women weep, And God knows why. |