SUMMER MEETING. 41 



As of many sweet bells chiming 



With a minor wail of sadness, 



Like the music heard in dream-land. 



'Twas the ringing of the "blue-bells," 

 Each its tiny clapper swinging, 

 Calling all the flowers to council. 

 Then they came in all their beauty, 

 From the prairie, hill and forest. 

 With one impulse met together. 



Much I wondered at the meeting. 

 Did wild flowers hold conventions? 

 Were they troubled with ambition? 

 Over all the fair assembly 

 Silence brooded calm and peaceful 

 As it were a Quaker meeting. 



Then at last "Jack in the Pulpit,'' 



Moved by strange power to address them, 



Stood erect and very solemn 



'Neath his canopy bright-colored. 



And he said to them "all evil 



Cometh from the love of money, 



This the root from which it springeth. 



For this cause our tribes are driven 



From the meadows and the prairies, 



From the hills and fertile valleys, 



By the onward march of progress. 



As it journeys ever westward. 



Weeds we are unto the farmer, 



As he field to field still addeth, 



Leaving us not e'en the hedgerows. 



He cares nothing for our beauty; 



Only for his wheat and barley 



And the fruits his hand has planted." 



"We, the rainbow tinted flowers. 

 Can alone find rest and safety 

 In dense thickets by the brook side. 

 Where no vandal plough can reach us: 

 On the bluffs so wild and lonely, 

 'Mid the lichen'd rocks and mosses." 



"So methinks this is our mission 

 Making bright the lonely places. 

 That when tired of wheat and barley 

 And the fruits his hand has planted. 

 Even of his 'Russian Apples' 

 Of which wisely he discourses," 



