aJ' 



The Swaying Iris 



■' Born ill the purple, born to joy and pleasance, 

 Thou dost not toil nor spin, 

 But makest glad and radiant with thy presence 

 The meadow and the lin." 



We have the good fortune to num- 

 ber among our native wild flowers 

 the beautiful fleur-de-lis, 

 y commonly called the blue- 



flaof, the blossom chosen 

 by the kings of France for 

 their emblem. 



The graceful family to 

 which this blossom be- 

 longs has been most ap- 

 propriately named for the 

 youthful goddess of the 

 rainbow, the fair lady Iris. 

 Our flower, however, is a 

 goddess in another court 

 than that of Olympus, and her courtiers, though 

 winged folk, can lay no claim to the supernatural. 

 It may well be doubted, however, that the goddess 

 of the clouds, in all the glory of court dress and 

 attendance, ever presented a prettier picture than a 

 company of these earthly flowers, set in velvety 



115 



