Flower Fables Read Online

Then, through the winter, must I seek the dwellings of the poor and suffering, comfort the sick and lonely, and give hope and courage to those who in their poverty are led astray. These things must I do; but when the flowers bloom again I will be with you, to welcome back our friends from over the sea.”

Then, with tears, the Fairies answered, “Ah, good little Bud, you have taken the hardest task yourself, and who will repay you for all your deeds of tenderness and mercy in the great world? Should evil befall you, our hearts would break. We will labor trustingly in the earth, and thoughts of you shall cheer us on; for without you we had been worthless beings, and never known the joy that kindly actions bring. Yes, dear Bud, we will gladly toil among the roots, that the fair flowers may wear their gayest robes to welcome you.”

Then deep in the earth the Fairies dwelt, and no frost or snow could harm the blossoms they tended. Every little seed was laid in the soft earth, watered, and watched. Tender roots were folded in withered leaves, that no chilling drops might reach them; and safely dreamed the flowers, till summer winds should call them forth; while lighter grew each Fairy heart, as every gentle deed was tenderly performed.

At length the snow was gone, and they heard little voices calling them to come up; but patiently they worked, till seed and root were green and strong. Then, with eager feet, they hastened to the earth above, where, over hill and valley, bright flowers and budding trees smiled in the warm sunlight, blossoms bent lovingly before them, and rang their colored bells, till the fragrant air was full of music; while the stately trees waved their great arms above them, and scattered soft leaves at their feet.

Then came the merry birds, making the wood alive with their gay voices, calling to one another, as they flew among the vines, building their little homes. Long waited the Elves, and at last she came with Father Brown-Breast. Happy days passed; and summer flowers were in their fullest beauty, when Bud bade the Fairies come with her.

Mounted on bright-winged butterflies, they flew over forest and meadow, till with joyful eyes they saw the flower-crowned walls of Fairy-Land.

Before the gates they stood, and soon troops of loving Elves came forth to meet them. And on through the sunny gardens they went, into the Lily Hall, where, among the golden stamens of a graceful flower, sat the Queen; while on the broad, green leaves around it stood the brighteyed little maids of honor.

Then, amid the deep silence, little Bud, leading the Fairies to the throne, said,—

“Dear Queen, I here bring back your subjects, wiser for their sorrow, better for their hard trial; and now might any Queen be proud of them, and bow to learn from them that giving joy and peace to others brings it fourfold to us, bearing a double happiness in the blessings to those we help. Through the dreary months, when they might have dwelt among fair Southern flowers, beneath a smiling sky, they toiled in the dark and silent earth, filling the hearts of the gentle Flower Spirits with grateful love, seeking no reward but the knowledge of their own good deeds, and the joy they always bring. This they have done unmurmuringly and alone; and now, far and wide, flower blessings fall upon them, and the summer winds bear the glad tidings unto those who droop in sorrow, and new joy and strength it brings, as they look longingly for the friends whose gentle care hath brought such happiness to their fair kindred.

“Are they not worthy of your love, dear Queen? Have they not won their lovely home? Say they are pardoned, and you have gained the love of hearts pure as the snow-white robes now folded over them.”

As Bud ceased, she touched the wondering Fairies with her wand, and the dark faded garments fell away; and beneath, the robes of lily-leaves glittered pure and spotless in the sun-light. Then, while happy tears fell, Queen Dew-Drop placed the bright crowns on the bowed heads of the kneeling Fairies, and laid before them the wands their own good deeds had rendered powerful.

They turned to thank little Bud for all her patient love, but she was gone; and high above, in the clear air, they saw the little form journeying back to the quiet forest.

She needed no reward but the joy she had given. The Fairy hearts were pure again, and her work was done; yet all Fairy-Land had learned a lesson from gentle little Bud.

“Now, little Sunbeam, what have you to tell us?” said the Queen, looking down on a bright-eyed Elf, who sat half hidden in the deep moss at her feet.

“I too, like Star-Twinkle, have nothing but a song to offer,” replied the Fairy; and then, while the nightingale’s sweet voice mingled with her own, she sang,—

CLOVER-BLOSSOM

In a quiet, pleasant meadow,

Beneath a summer sky,

Where green old trees their branches waved,

And winds went singing by;

Where a little brook went rippling

So musically low,

And passing clouds cast shadows

On the waving grass below;

Where low, sweet notes of brooding birds

Stole out on the fragrant air,

And golden sunlight shone undimmed

On all most fresh and fair;—

There bloomed a lovely sisterhood

Of happy little flowers,

Together in this pleasant home,

Through quiet summer hours.

No rude hand came to gather them,

No chilling winds to blight;

Warm sunbeams smiled on them by day,

And soft dews fell at night.

So here, along the brook-side,

Beneath the green old trees,

The flowers dwelt among their friends,

The sunbeams and the breeze.

One morning, as the flowers awoke,

Fragrant, and fresh, and fair,

A little worm came creeping by,

And begged a shelter there.

“Ah! pity and love me,” sighed the worm,

“I am lonely, poor, and weak;

A little spot for a resting-place,

Dear flowers, is all I seek.

I am not fair, and have dwelt unloved

By butterfly, bird, and bee.

They little knew that in this dark form

Lay the beauty they yet may see.

Then let me lie in the deep green moss,

And weave my little tomb,

And sleep my long, unbroken sleep

Till Spring’s first flowers come.

Then will I come in a fairer dress,

And your gentle care repay

By the grateful love of the humble worm;

Kind flowers, O let me stay!”

But the wild rose showed her little thorns,

While her soft face glowed with pride;

The violet hid beneath the drooping ferns,

And the daisy turned aside.

Little Houstonia scornfully laughed,

As she danced on her slender stem;

While the cowslip bent to the rippling waves,

And whispered the tale to them.

A blue-eyed grass looked down on the worm,

As it silently turned away,

And cried, “Thou wilt harm our delicate leaves,

And therefore thou canst not stay.”

Then a sweet, soft voice, called out from far,

“Come hither, poor worm, to me;

The sun lies warm in this quiet spot,

And I’ll share my home with thee.”

The wondering flowers looked up to see

Who had offered the worm a home:

’T was a clover-blossom, whose fluttering leaves

Seemed beckoning him to come;

It dwelt in a sunny little nook,

Where cool winds rustled by,

And murmuring bees and butterflies came,

On the flower’s breast to lie.

Down through the leaves the sunlight stole,

And seemed to linger there,

As if it loved to brighten the home

Of one so sweet and fair.

Its rosy face smiled kindly down,

As the friendless worm drew near;

And its low voice, softly whispering, said

“Poor thing, thou art welcome here;

Close at my side, in the soft green moss,

Thou wilt find a quiet bed,

Where thou canst softly sleep till Spring,

With my leaves above thee spread.

I pity and love thee, friendless worm,

Though thou art not graceful or fair;

For many a dark, unlovely form,

Hath a kind heart dwelling there;

No more o’er the green and pleasant earth,

Lonely and poor, shalt thou roam,

For a loving friend hast thou found in me,

And rest in my little home.”

Then, deep in its quiet mossy bed,

Sheltered from sun and shower,

The grateful worm spun its winter tomb,

In the shadow of the flower.

And Clover guarded well its rest,

Till Autumn’s leaves were sere,

Till all her sister flowers were gone,

And her winter sleep drew near.

Then her withered leaves were softly spread

O’er the sleeping worm below,

Ere the faithful little flower lay

Beneath the winter snow.

Spring came again, and the flowers rose

From their quiet winter graves,

And gayly danced on their slender stems,

And sang with the rippling waves.

Softly the warm winds kissed their cheeks;

Brightly the sunbeams fell,

As, one by one, they came again

In their summer homes to dwell.

And little Clover bloomed once more,

Rosy, and sweet, and fair,

And patiently watched by the mossy bed,

For the worm still slumbered there.

Then her sister flowers scornfully cried,

As they waved in the summer air,

“The ugly worm was friendless and poor;

Little Clover, why shouldst thou care?

Then watch no more, nor dwell alone,

Away from thy sister flowers;

Come, dance and feast, and spend with us

These pleasant summer hours.

We pity thee, foolish little flower,

To trust what the false worm said;

He will not come in a fairer dress,

For he lies in the green moss dead.”

But little Clover still watched on,

Alone in her sunny home;

She did not doubt the poor worm’s truth,

And trusted he would come.

At last the small cell opened wide,

And a glittering butterfly,

From out the moss, on golden wings,

Soared up to the sunny sky.

Then the wondering flowers cried aloud,

“Clover, thy watch was vain;

He only sought a shelter here,

And never will come again.”

And the unkind flowers danced for joy,

When they saw him thus depart;

For the love of a beautiful butterfly

Is dear to a flower’s heart.

They feared he would stay in Clover’s home,

And her tender care repay;

So they danced for joy, when at last he rose

And silently flew away.

Then little Clover bowed her head,

While her soft tears fell like dew;

For her gentle heart was grieved, to find

That her sisters’ words were true,

And the insect she had watched so long

When helpless, poor, and lone,

Thankless for all her faithful care,

On his golden wings had flown.

But as she drooped, in silent grief,

She heard little Daisy cry,

“O sisters, look! I see him now,

Afar in the sunny sky;

He is floating back from Cloud-Land now,

Borne by the fragrant air.

Spread wide your leaves, that he may choose

The flower he deems most fair.”

Then the wild rose glowed with a deeper blush,

As she proudly waved on her stem;

The Cowslip bent to the clear blue waves,

And made her mirror of them.

Little Houstonia merrily danced,

And spread her white leaves wide;

While Daisy whispered her joy and hope,

As she stood by her gay friends’ side.

Violet peeped from the tall green ferns,

And lifted her soft blue eye

To watch the glittering form, that shone

Afar in the summer sky.

They thought no more of the ugly worm,

Who once had wakened their scorn;

But looked and longed for the butterfly now,

As the soft wind bore him on.

Nearer and nearer the bright form came,

And fairer the blossoms grew;

Each welcomed him, in her sweetest tones;

Each offered her honey and dew.

But in vain did they beckon, and smile, and call,

And wider their leaves unclose;

The glittering form still floated on,

By Violet, Daisy, and Rose.

Lightly it flew to the pleasant home

Of the flower most truly fair,

On Clover’s breast he softly lit,

And folded his bright wings there.

“Dear flower,” the butterfly whispered low,

“Long hast thou waited for me;

Now I am come, and my grateful love

Shall brighten thy home for thee;

Thou hast loved and cared for me, when alone,

Hast watched o’er me long and well;

And now will I strive to show the thanks

The poor worm could not tell.

Sunbeam and breeze shall come to thee,

And the coolest dews that fall;

Whate’er a flower can wish is thine,

For thou art worthy all.

And the home thou shared with the friendless worm

The butterfly’s home shall be;

And thou shalt find, dear, faithful flower,

A loving friend in me.”

Then, through the long, bright summer hours

Through sunshine and through shower,

Together in their happy home

Dwelt butterfly and flower.

“Ah, that is very lovely,” cried the Elves, gathering round little Sunbeam as she ceased, to place a garland in her hair and praise her song.

“Now,” said the Queen, “call hither Moon-light and Summer-Wind, for they have seen many pleasant things in their long wanderings, and will gladly tell us them.”

“Most joyfully will we do our best, dear Queen,” said the Elves, as they folded their wings beside her.

“Now, Summer-Wind,” said Moonlight, “till your turn comes, do you sit here and fan me while I tell this tale of

LITTLE ANNIE’S DREAM;
OR,
THE FAIRY FLOWER

In a large and pleasant garden sat little Annie all alone, and she seemed very sad, for drops that were not dew fell fast upon the flowers beside her, who looked wonderingly up, and bent still nearer, as if they longed to cheer and comfort her. The warm wind lifted up her shining hair and softly kissed her cheek, while the sunbeams, looking most kindly in her face, made little rainbows in her tears, and lingered lovingly about her. But Annie paid no heed to sun, or wind, or flower; still the bright tears fell, and she forgot all but her sorrow.

“Little Annie, tell me why you weep,” said a low voice in her ear; and, looking up, the child beheld a little figure standing on a vine-leaf at her side; a lovely face smiled on her, from amid bright locks of hair, and shining wings were folded on a white and glittering robe, that fluttered in the wind.

“Who are you, lovely little thing?” cried Annie, smiling through her tears.

“I am a Fairy, little child, and am come to help and comfort you; now tell me why you weep, and let me be your friend,” replied the spirit, as she smiled more kindly still on Annie’s wondering face.

“And are you really, then, a little Elf, such as I read of in my fairy books? Do you ride on butterflies, sleep in flower-cups, and live among the clouds?”

“Yes, all these things I do, and many stranger still, that all your fairy books can never tell; but now, dear Annie,” said the Fairy, bending nearer, “tell me why I found no sunshine on your face; why are these great drops shining on the flowers, and why do you sit alone when BIRD and BEE are calling you to play?”

“Ah, you will not love me any more if I should tell you all,” said Annie, while the tears began to fall again; “I am not happy, for I am not good; how shall I learn to be a patient, gentle child? good little Fairy, will you teach me how?”

“Gladly will I aid you, Annie, and if you truly wish to be a happy child, you first must learn to conquer many passions that you cherish now, and make your heart a home for gentle feelings and happy thoughts; the task is hard, but I will give this fairy flower to help and counsel you. Bend hither, that I may place it in your breast; no hand can take it hence, till I unsay the spell that holds it there.”

As thus she spoke, the Elf took from her bosom a graceful flower, whose snow-white leaves shone with a strange, soft light. “This is a fairy flower,” said the Elf, “invisible to every eye save yours; now listen while I tell its power, Annie. When your heart is filled with loving thoughts, when some kindly deed has been done, some duty well performed, then from the flower there will arise the sweetest, softest fragrance, to reward and gladden you. But when an unkind word is on your lips, when a selfish, angry feeling rises in your heart, or an unkind, cruel deed is to be done, then will you hear the soft, low chime of the flower-bell; listen to its warning, let the word remain unspoken, the deed undone, and in the quiet joy of your own heart, and the magic perfume of your bosom flower, you will find a sweet reward.”

“O kind and generous Fairy, how can I ever thank you for this lovely gift!” cried Annie. “I will be true, and listen to my little bell whenever it may ring. But shall I never see YOU more? Ah! if you would only stay with me, I should indeed be good.”

“I cannot stay now, little Annie,” said the Elf, “but when another Spring comes round, I shall be here again, to see how well the fairy gift has done its work. And now farewell, dear child; be faithful to yourself, and the magic flower will never fade.”

Then the gentle Fairy folded her little arms around Annie’s neck, laid a soft kiss on her cheek, and, spreading wide her shining wings, flew singing up among the white clouds floating in the sky.

And little Annie sat among her flowers, and watched with wondering joy the fairy blossom shining on her breast.

The pleasant days of Spring and Summer passed away, and in little Annie’s garden Autumn flowers were blooming everywhere, with each day’s sun and dew growing still more beautiful and bright; but the fairy flower, that should have been the loveliest of all, hung pale and drooping on little Annie’s bosom; its fragrance seemed quite gone, and the clear, low music of its warning chime rang often in her ear.

When first the Fairy placed it there, she had been pleased with her new gift, and for a while obeyed the fairy bell, and often tried to win some fragrance from the flower, by kind and pleasant words and actions; then, as the Fairy said, she found a sweet reward in the strange, soft perfume of the magic blossom, as it shone upon her breast; but selfish thoughts would come to tempt her, she would yield, and unkind words fell from her lips; and then the flower drooped pale and scentless, the fairy bell rang mournfully, Annie would forget her better resolutions, and be again a selfish, wilful little child.

At last she tried no longer, but grew angry with the faithful flower, and would have torn it from her breast; but the fairy spell still held it fast, and all her angry words but made it ring a louder, sadder peal. Then she paid no heed to the silvery music sounding in her ear, and each day grew still more unhappy, discontented, and unkind; so, when the Autumn days came round, she was no better for the gentle Fairy’s gift, and longed for Spring, that it might be returned; for now the constant echo of the mournful music made her very sad.

One sunny morning, when the fresh, cool Winds were blowing, and not a cloud was in the sky, little Annie walked among her flowers, looking carefully into each, hoping thus to find the Fairy, who alone could take the magic blossom from her breast. But she lifted up their drooping leaves, peeped into their dewy cups in vain; no little Elf lay hidden there, and she turned sadly from them all, saying, “I will go out into the fields and woods, and seek her there. I will not listen to this tiresome music more, nor wear this withered flower longer.” So out into the fields she went, where the long grass rustled as she passed, and timid birds looked at her from their nests; where lovely wild-flowers nodded in the wind, and opened wide their fragrant leaves, to welcome in the murmuring bees, while butterflies, like winged flowers, danced and glittered in the sun.

Little Annie looked, searched, and asked them all if any one could tell her of the Fairy whom she sought; but the birds looked wonderingly at her with their soft, bright eyes, and still sang on; the flowers nodded wisely on their stems, but did not speak, while butterfly and bee buzzed and fluttered away, one far too busy, the other too idle, to stay and tell her what she asked.

Then she went through broad fields of yellow grain, that waved around her like a golden forest; here crickets chirped, grasshoppers leaped, and busy ants worked, but they could not tell her what she longed to know.

“Now will I go among the hills,” said Annie, “she may be there.” So up and down the green hill-sides went her little feet; long she searched and vainly she called; but still no Fairy came. Then by the river-side she went, and asked the gay dragon-flies, and the cool white lilies, if the Fairy had been there; but the blue waves rippled on the white sand at her feet, and no voice answered her.

Then into the forest little Annie went; and as she passed along the dim, cool paths, the wood-flowers smiled up in her face, gay squirrels peeped at her, as they swung amid the vines, and doves cooed softly as she wandered by; but none could answer her. So, weary with her long and useless search, she sat amid the ferns, and feasted on the rosy strawberries that grew beside her, watching meanwhile the crimson evening clouds that glowed around the setting sun.

The night-wind rustled through the boughs, rocking the flowers to sleep; the wild birds sang their evening hymns, and all within the wood grew calm and still; paler and paler grew the purple light, lower and lower drooped little Annie’s head, the tall ferns bent to shield her from the dew, the whispering pines sang a soft lullaby; and when the Autumn moon rose up, her silver light shone on the child, where, pillowed on green moss, she lay asleep amid the wood-flowers in the dim old forest.

And all night long beside her stood the Fairy she had sought, and by elfin spell and charm sent to the sleeping child this dream.

Little Annie dreamed she sat in her own garden, as she had often sat before, with angry feelings in her heart, and unkind words upon her lips. The magic flower was ringing its soft warning, but she paid no heed to anything, save her own troubled thoughts; thus she sat, when suddenly a low voice whispered in her ear,—

“Little Annie, look and see the evil things that you are cherishing; I will clothe in fitting shapes the thoughts and feelings that now dwell within your heart, and you shall see how great their power becomes, unless you banish them for ever.”

Then Annie saw, with fear and wonder, that the angry words she uttered changed to dark, unlovely forms, each showing plainly from what fault or passion it had sprung. Some of the shapes had scowling faces and bright, fiery eyes; these were the spirits of Anger.