Flower Fables.txt

Flower Fables







by Louisa May Alcott















"Pondering shadows, colors, clouds



 Grass-buds, and caterpillar shrouds



 Boughs on which the wild bees settle,



 Tints that spot the violet's petal."



                            EMERSON'S WOOD-NOTES.















                      TO



                 ELLEN EMERSON,



           FOR WHOM THEY WERE FANCIED,



               THESE FLOWER FABLES



                  ARE INSCRIBED,



                  BY HER FRIEND,







                           THE AUTHOR.



Boston, Dec. 9, 1854.



















Contents







The Frost King: or, The Power of Love



Eva's Visit to Fairy-Land



The Flower's Lesson



Lily-Bell and Thistledown



Little Bud



Clover-Blossom



Little Annie's Dream: or, The Fairy Flower



Ripple, the Water-Spirit



Fairy Song















FLOWER FABLES.















THE summer moon shone brightly down upon the sleeping earth, while



far away from mortal eyes danced the Fairy folk.  Fire-flies hung



in bright clusters on the dewy leaves, that waved in the cool



night-wind; and the flowers stood gazing, in very wonder, at the



little Elves, who lay among the fern-leaves, swung in the vine-boughs,



sailed on the lake in lily cups, or danced on the mossy ground,



to the music of the hare-bells, who rung out their merriest peal



in honor of the night.







Under the shade of a wild rose sat the Queen and her little



Maids of Honor, beside the silvery mushroom where the feast



was spread.







"Now, my friends," said she, "to wile away the time till the bright



moon goes down, let us each tell a tale, or relate what we have done



or learned this day.  I will begin with you, Sunny Lock," added she,



turning to a lovely little Elf, who lay among the fragrant leaves



of a primrose.







With a gay smile, "Sunny Lock" began her story.







"As I was painting the bright petals of a blue bell, it told me



this tale."



















THE FROST-KING:



       OR,



THE POWER OF LOVE.















THREE little Fairies sat in the fields eating their breakfast;



each among the leaves of her favorite flower, Daisy, Primrose,



and Violet, were happy as Elves need be.







The morning wind gently rocked them to and fro, and the sun



shone warmly down upon the dewy grass, where butterflies spread



their gay wings, and bees with their deep voices sung



among the flowers; while the little birds hopped merrily about



to peep at them.







On a silvery mushroom was spread the breakfast; little cakes



of flower-dust lay on a broad green leaf, beside a crimson



strawberry, which, with sugar from the violet, and cream



from the yellow milkweed, made a fairy meal, and their drink was



the dew from the flowers' bright leaves.







"Ah me," sighed Primrose, throwing herself languidly back,



"how warm the sun grows! give me another piece of strawberry, 



and then I must hasten away to the shadow of the ferns.  But 



while I eat, tell me, dear Violet, why are you all so sad? 



I have scarce seen a happy face since my return from Rose Land; 



dear friend, what means it?"







"I will tell you," replied little Violet, the tears gathering 



in her soft eyes.  "Our good Queen is ever striving to keep



the dear flowers from the power of the cruel Frost-King; many ways 



she tried, but all have failed.  She has sent messengers to his court



with costly gifts; but all have returned sick for want of sunlight,



weary and sad; we have watched over them, heedless of sun or shower,



but still his dark spirits do their work, and we are left to weep



over our blighted blossoms.  Thus have we striven, and in vain; 



and this night our Queen holds council for the last time.  Therefore



are we sad, dear Primrose, for she has toiled and cared for us,



and we can do nothing to help or advise her now."







"It is indeed a cruel thing," replied her friend; "but as we cannot



help it, we must suffer patiently, and not let the sorrows of others



disturb our happiness.  But, dear sisters, see you not how high



the sun is getting?  I have my locks to curl, and my robe to prepare



for the evening; therefore I must be gone, or I shall be brown as



a withered leaf in this warm light."  So, gathering a tiny mushroom



for a parasol, she flew away; Daisy soon followed, and Violet was 



left alone.







Then she spread the table afresh, and to it came fearlessly the busy



ant and bee, gay butterfly and bird; even the poor blind mole and



humble worm were not forgotten; and with gentle words she gave to all,



while each learned something of their kind little teacher; and the



love that made her own heart bright shone alike on all.







The ant and bee learned generosity, the butterfly and bird



contentment, the mole and worm confidence in the love of others;



and each went to their home better for the little time they had been



with Violet.







Evening came, and with it troops of Elves to counsel their good Queen,



who, seated on her mossy throne, looked anxiously upon the throng



below, whose glittering wings and rustling robes gleamed like



many-colored flowers.







At length she rose, and amid the deep silence spoke thus:--







"Dear children, let us not tire of a good work, hard though it be



and wearisome; think of the many little hearts that in their sorrow



look to us for help.  What would the green earth be without its



lovely flowers, and what a lonely home for us!  Their beauty fills



our hearts with brightness, and their love with tender thoughts.



Ought we then to leave them to die uncared for and alone?  They give



to us their all; ought we not to toil unceasingly, that they may



bloom in peace within their quiet homes?  We have tried to gain



the love of the stern Frost-King, but in vain; his heart is hard as



his own icy land; no love can melt, no kindness bring it back to



sunlight and to joy.  How then may we keep our frail blossoms



from his cruel spirits?  Who will give us counsel?  Who will be



our messenger for the last time ?  Speak, my subjects."







Then a great murmuring arose, and many spoke, some for costlier gifts,



some for war; and the fearful counselled patience and submission.







Long and eagerly they spoke, and their soft voices rose high.







Then sweet music sounded on the air, and the loud tones were hushed,



as in wondering silence the Fairies waited what should come.







Through the crowd there came a little form, a wreath of pure



white violets lay among the bright locks that fell so softly



round the gentle face, where a deep blush glowed, as, kneeling at



the throne, little Violet said:--







"Dear Queen, we have bent to the Frost-King's power, we have borne



gifts unto his pride, but have we gone trustingly to him and



spoken fearlessly of his evil deeds?  Have we shed the soft light



of unwearied love around his cold heart, and with patient tenderness



shown him how bright and beautiful love can make even the darkest lot?







"Our messengers have gone fearfully, and with cold looks and 



courtly words offered him rich gifts, things he cared not for,



and with equal pride has he sent them back.







"Then let me, the weakest of your band, go to him, trusting



in the love I know lies hidden in the coldest heart.







"I will bear only a garland of our fairest flowers; these 



will I wind about him, and their bright faces, looking lovingly



in his, will bring sweet thoughts to his dark mind, and their



soft breath steal in like gentle words.  Then, when he sees them



fading on his breast, will he not sigh that there is no warmth there



to keep them fresh and lovely?  This will I do, dear Queen, and



never leave his dreary home, till the sunlight falls on flowers



fair as those that bloom in our own dear land."







Silently the Queen had listened, but now, rising and placing her hand



on little Violet's head, she said, turning to the throng below:--



"We in our pride and power have erred, while this, the weakest and



lowliest of our subjects, has from the innocence of her own pure heart



counselled us more wisely than the noblest of our train.



All who will aid our brave little messenger, lift your wands,



that we may know who will place their trust in the Power of Love."







Every fairy wand glistened in the air, as with silvery voices



they cried, "Love and little Violet."







Then down from the throne, hand in hand, came the Queen and Violet,



and till the moon sank did the Fairies toil, to weave a wreath



of the fairest flowers.  Tenderly they gathered them, with the



night-dew fresh upon their leaves, and as they wove chanted sweet



spells, and whispered fairy blessings on the bright messengers



whom they sent forth to die in a dreary land, that their gentle



kindred might bloom unharmed.







At length it was done; and the fair flowers lay glowing 



in the soft starlight, while beside them stood the Fairies, singing



to the music of the wind-harps:--











 "We are sending you, dear flowers,



    Forth alone to die,



  Where your gentle sisters may not weep



    O'er the cold graves where you lie;



  But you go to bring them fadeless life



    In the bright homes where they dwell,



  And you softly smile that 't is so,



    As we sadly sing farewell.







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