Little white flower, what did you do With your share of blue? Was it washed out last night as you slept Where dew fairies wept?
What has gone with the fragrance one gets From blue violets? Was it all stolen by the wild breeze That roams through the trees?
How did you keep from robbers so bold The bright speck of gold, Shining down where your white petals part, Disclosing your heart?
Speaking directly to a white violet, the speaker wonders why it looks so different from its blue cousins. Each stanza asks a playful question. Where did the blue go? Perhaps rain or dew washed it out overnight, while "dew fairies wept." Where did the sweet scent go? Maybe the wild breeze carried it off through the trees. And how did the flower keep its tiny gold center safe from "robbers so bold"?
None of these questions needs a real answer. The speaker is making up small, whimsical stories, treating the flower as something that might have been robbed or bleached by mischievous forces. The last stanza shifts the mood slightly. The gold speck is described as the flower's "heart," openly visible where the petals part, and the speaker seems relieved, even admiring, that it survived untouched.
The overall feeling is gentle, curious, and affectionate. It reads like a child's wondering, but with real tenderness toward something small and easily overlooked.