FOREST LEAVES 111 



my bank in the shadow of your home and sleep 

 through the winter, dreaming that still the 

 wind plays over your boughs and sings to you 

 through the long winter night." 



^*I cannot dream that the wind caresses me," 

 sighed Picea, *'for your touch is cold, colder 

 than the north wind I" 



**Let my song weave through your dreams," 

 murmured the river, *' until it is like the lul- 

 laby of the wind when you swung in your cone- 

 cradle on the spruce tree bough. When the 

 spring comes, I will wake you and bear you 

 away." 



Picea lay silent, listening to the song of the 

 river. The dark, cold night came; but the 

 same stars as of old looked down upon her, the 

 same stars with the same message. And so 

 she slept, dreaming that once more she stood 

 upon the mountain side, binding her forehead 

 with boughs of green and lifting her taper 

 fingers toward the stars. 



At last the winter sleep was over, for spring 

 had returned to the forest. Slowly the river 

 rose, lifting Picea and her sylvan friends. 



