IT
was winter-time;
the air was cold,
the wind was sharp,
but within
the closed doors it was
warm and comfortable,
and within the closed door
lay the flower;
it lay in the bulb
under the snow-covered earth.
One day rain fell.
The drops
penetrated through the snowy
covering down into the earth,
and touched the flower-bulb,
and talked
of the bright world above.
Soon the Sunbeam
pierced its way
through the snow
to the root,
and within the root
there was a stirring.
"Come in," said the flower.
"I cannot," said the Sunbeam.
"I am not strong enough
to unlock the door!
When the summer comes
I shall be strong!"
"When will it be summer?"
asked the Flower,
and she repeated
this question each
time a new sunbeam
made its way
down to her.
But the summer
was yet far distant.
The snow still
lay upon the ground,
and there was a coat
of ice
on the water every night.
"What a long
time it takes!
what a long time
it takes!"
said the Flower.
"I feel a stirring and
striving within me;
I must stretch myself,
I must unlock the door,
I must get out,
and must
nod a good morning
to the summer,
and what a happy time
that will be!"
And the Flower
stirred and stretched itself
within the thin rind
which the water
had softened from without,
and the snow
and the earth
had warmed,
and the Sunbeam
had knocked at;
and it
shot forth
under the snow
with a greenish-white
blossom on a green stalk,
with narrow thick leaves,
which seemed to want
to protect it.
The snow was cold,
but was
pierced by the Sunbeam,
therefore it
was easy
to get through it,
and now the Sunbeam
came with greater strength
than before.
"Welcome,
welcome!"
sang and sounded every ray,
and the Flower
lifted itself
up over the snow
into the brighter world.
The Sunbeams
caressed and kissed it,
so that it opened altogether,
white as snow,
and ornamented with green stripes.
It bent its head
in joy and humility.
"Beautiful Flower!"
said the Sunbeams,
"how graceful
and delicate you are!
You are the first,
you are the only one!
You are our love!
You are the bell
that rings out for summer,
beautiful summer,
over country and town.
All the snow will melt;
the cold winds
will be driven away;
we shall rule;
all will become green,
and then you
will have companions,
syringas,
laburnums,
and roses;
but you are the first,
so graceful,
so delicate!"
That was a great pleasure.
It seemed
as if the air
were singing and sounding,
as if rays of light
were piercing
through the leaves
and the stalks
of the Flower.
There it stood,
so delicate
and so easily broken,
and yet so strong
in its young beauty;
it stood
there in its white dress
with the green stripes,
and made a summer.
But there was
a long time yet
to the summer-time.
Clouds hid the sun,
and bleak winds were blowing.
"You have come too early,"
said Wind and Weather.
"We have still the power,
and you shall