Has bathed thee in his own bright hue,
 And streaked with jet thy glowing lip.
Yet slight thy form, and low thy seat,
 And earthward bent thy gentle eye,
Unapt the passing view to meet
 When loftier flowers are flaunting nigh.
Oft, in the sunless April day,
Thy early smile has stayed my walk;
But midst the gorgeous blooms of May,
I passed thee on thy humble stalk.
So they, who climb to wealth, forget
 The friends in darker fortunes tried.
I copied them—but I regret
 That I should ape the ways of pride.
And when again the genial hour
 Awakes the painted tribes of light,
I'll not o'erlook the modest flower

  Bryant admits that he copied his more successful friends at one point in his life. He regrets that choice of not being original. His transcendentalist roots are reflected here. He admits that he should have relied more on himself and had more pride in his own thoughts and visions. He speaks of this mistake as a lesson learned.
The Yellow Violet