THE BRIDAL OF THE BLUESTEM 



BLUESTEM had grown tall and handsome on the prairie. He 

 towered high above his brothers of the grass. You would 

 think him feeble to see him bend before the wind. But he 

 had learned to bow to the will of the wind and not break. 

 He had learned that struggle develops strength. He always 

 stood as stiff as he could when the wind began to blow. But 

 the sight of ugliness pained Bluestem to the heart. He 

 yearned for the companionship of beauty. On a day in 

 April, when he was very young, he caught a glimpse of her 

 face and saw her trail across the prairie. She moved past 

 him as noiseless as a shadow on the grass. Every day and 

 night when the wind blew by he whispered the name of 

 Beauty. All of his grassy friends noticed that the more 

 Bluestem longed for beauty, the more beautiful he became. 

 But he grew taller the while, his very longing seeming to 

 lift him. Now and then he seemed to hear her singing in the 

 wind, and, spreading abroad his grassy palms, he would 

 feel about to find her. He had set his heart on Beauty, and 

 that had made him beautiful. To Bluestem's ears Beauty's 

 faintest footfall was music. To his vision her face was an 

 apocalypse. Bluestem's eyes are clear and keen for no eyes 

 see like the eyes of love. 



One day in May, while Bluestem stood waiting on the 

 sod, he saw a long raceme shooting up from the center of a 

 tuft of dagger-pointed leaves. This beautiful thing was 

 draped about with many snowy blossoms. Beauty had long 

 stood by Bluestem's side awaiting him to woo her. All the 



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