THE DEW MOTHER
The tall Dew Mother, dressed in grey,
Last night at dusk went down the way,
By winding lane and meadow deep,
And kissed each little flower to sleep.
And some sweet buds so drowsy sat,
They hardly heard her pit-a-pat,——
They scarcely knew that they were found,——
Already dreams had wrapped them round.
But she, so pale and kind and tall,
Her cool, sweet kisses laid on all,
And left each leaf a dewdrop bright
To play with in the morning light.
May Byron.
ORIGIN OF THE DANDELION
(INDIAN LEGEND)
The gentle South Breeze, whom the Indians call Shawondasee, lay asleep on the soft grass in front of his wigwam. His face was turned toward the Northland, and he was dreaming of the joys and blessings he would send there to fill the summer days with gladness.
In the spring he had told the bluebird and swallow that it was time to build their nests in the budding Northland. His warm breath had melted the winter snows and enticed the brooks and rills to flow again toward the sea. Now the last days of spring were waning and summer was at hand.
Shawondasee smiled in his dream. He wafted gentle showers to the meadows of the Northland and blossoms opened their faces to the sun. Little children clapped their hands in glee when they saw the shining buttercups and the daisies with golden hearts.
The laughter which Shawondasee heard in his dream wakened him. Slowly he opened his eyes and looked dreamily at the great stretches of prairie which lay before him. In a little while the South Breeze aroused himself and gazed intently toward the Northland. There among the slender waving grasses he saw a beautiful maiden. Her tall, graceful figure was clothed in delicate green, and her moccasins were of the same color. Her hair was yellow as gold. Merrily she danced about the prairie, nodding and smiling at Shawondasee, who became enchanted with her grace and beauty.
"'Tis the loveliest vision I've ever seen," murmured the South Breeze softly. "Surely she is a daughter of the Sun, and he has made her wonderful hair out of his own beams."
All day long he watched her dancing gaily on the northern prairie, and at night when he went into his wigwam, he said, "I shall journey northward and woo the sunny-haired maiden. Gently will I woo her to be my bride."
The next day when Shawondasee came sleepily out of his wigwam, there, in the morning light, he saw the graceful maiden flitting about on the prairie. All the while she nodded her golden head and smiled gaily at him.
"There is plenty of time to woo her," sighed Shawondasee; "I'll enjoy her dancing a little longer before I journey northward and ask her to live with me in the Southland."
One morning when South Breeze came out of his wigwam to watch the dancing maiden, he noticed a great change had come to her. On her head was a fleecy white crown.
"What has happened to my golden-haired prairie maiden?" he sighed. "Can it be that my rough brother, North Wind, has crowned her with snow?"
He sprang to his feet and hastened toward the northern plains. As he drew near the maiden, he saw that her golden hair had, indeed, gone, and in its place were tresses soft and white as the snow.
Shawondasee's heart was filled with sorrow. His breath came quick and fast and, as he came very near to the maiden, he drew a deep, deep sigh.
Suddenly the strangest thing happened. All the air was filled with soft, downy fibers, which flitted over the prairie like the tiniest fairy sails and, in a little while, sank lightly among the waving grasses. Shawondasee closed his eyes for a moment, and when he opened them, lo! the prairie maiden had vanished.
"I cannot give up my beautiful maiden," sighed South Breeze. "I shall not go back to the Southland until I have found her."
For weeks he wandered over the meadows, but no trace of the maiden could he find. One day Kabibonokka, the rough North Wind, blew sharp and shrill. His cold blast made the gentle Shawondasee shiver and hasten back to his warm wigwam in the South.
During the cold winter months while Kabibonokka, with his icy breath, stalked over the prairie, Shawondasee stayed in his wigwam and mourned the loss of his prairie maiden. But when the warm days came again and the grass sprang up on the northern plains, the South Breeze came forth and planned to journey northward.
One day he looked toward the prairie where a year ago he had seen the dancing, golden-haired maiden. A marvelous sight greeted him. Hundreds of bright yellow flowers among the waving grasses nodded and smiled at him. The prairie was shining with golden dandelions.