Meadow and Mountain 



Fair Queen of the Prairie, thy snow-white flower, 



Spire-like, points to the sky; 

 Above the green turf thy blossomy bower 



Delights the lone traveler's eye. 

 Spring showers have nourished thy life into bloom, 

 Autumn will spoil thy glowing raceme, 



Winter will shroud thy verdure with snow, 

 Bury thee, living, in frost-made tomb, 

 Under the drifts to slumber and dream, 

 Over thee blankets of snow will gleam, 



And the bright frost-flowers will blow. 



Bluestem ceased singing and looked to see if Yucca 

 smiled. But the fair, white beauty had fled. Wondering, he 

 waited for her return. Many a time before she came he 

 thought he heard her footfall. One sultry noon he thought 

 he found her footprints in the swale. Then once he thought 

 he saw Her playing hide-and-go-seek with some one in the 

 evening gloam. Once at midnight he was sure he saw her 

 in the moonlight, bathing her hands and feet in the dew. 



It was sunrise when Bluestem awoke and found at his 

 side a lovely form. Beauty had returned, but robed this 

 time in golden-yellow. He threw his sheltering shade upon 

 her, for well he knew that the hot sun would soon spoil her 

 shining dress. As they stood side by side in the sun, a prairie- 

 lad passed, taking some kine to drink in the draw. Listen! 

 He is singing 



A SONG OF THE PRIMROSE 



Dainty Primrose, shy and furtive. 

 Thou art timid, yet assertive, 

 And a scepter thou dost sway, 

 Halting travelers by the way. 



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