God's Will

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.