. 

 The Bridal of the Bluestem 



Gleaming beauty of the morning, 

 Prairie trails and fields adorning, 

 Must thy beauty sleep so soon, 

 Hiding at the summer noon? 



Come back, Sweet, when in the gloaming 

 Spangled skies are overdoming; 

 Then when none but angels see, 

 Primrose, I '11 keep tryst with thee. 



As the last lines of the song died in the distance, Blue- 

 stem found himself again bereft of Beauty, save what his own 

 heart had caught from hers. In place of her garments of 

 bloom, there lay at his feet, curled up in the grass, nothing 

 but faded and withered petals. He was sad but not dis- 

 heartened, for living with Beauty had made him brave. 



On a warm summer day, as he stood with head bowed 

 in the wind, and dreaming of the past, he was delighted to 

 see a thorny little vine at his feet. It was covered with tiny 

 and sensitive leaves. They shrank from his softest touch. 

 Here and there among the leaves were lovely little blossom- 

 balls. These were covered with innumerable hair-like petals, 

 the outer ends of which were tipped with tiny bits of pollen 

 as shining as the dust of gold. Beauty had come this time 

 in the strange disguise of the Sensitive Rose. As her pink 

 and green gown trailed about Bluestem 's feet, he smiled 

 upon her and sang this whisper-song: 



O passionate, sensitive rose, 



As round as a sprinkle of rain 

 That fell from a garden of cloud through the air, 



And bloomed on a warm window pane; 



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