WILLOW, POPPY, AND VIOLET. 77 



&quot;Tree, why art thou always so sad and 

 drooping ? Am not I kind unto thee ?&quot; But 

 it answered not only as it grew on it drooped 

 lower and lower, for it was a weeping willow. 



The boy cast seed into the soft garden 

 mould. When the time of flowers came, a 

 strong, budding stalk stood there, with coarse, 

 serrated leaves. Soon a full red poppy came 

 forth, glorying in its gaudy dress. At its feet 

 grew a purple violet, which no hand had 

 planted or cherished. 



It lived lovingly with the mosses, and with 

 the frail flowers of the grass, not counting 

 itself more excellent than they. 



&quot; Large poppy, why dost thou spread out thy 

 scarlet robe so widely, and drink up all the 

 sunbeams from my lowly violet?&quot; 



Bat the flaunting flower replied not to him 

 who planted it. It even seemed to open its 

 rich silk mantle still more broadly, as though 

 it would have stifled its humble neighbors. 

 Yet nothing hindered the fragrance of the 

 meek violet. 



The little child was troubled, and at the 

 hour of sleep he spake to his mother of the 

 tree that continually wept, and of the plant 

 that overshadowed its neighbor. So she took 



