Then the sun, he pitied her pitiful case,
And drew a thick veil over his face.
“Cloud, go away, and don’t be rude;
I am not—I don’t see why you should.”
The cloud withdrew, and the harebell cried,
“I am faint, so faint! and no water beside!”
And the dew came down its million-fold path;
But she murmured, “I did not want a bath.”
A boy came by in the morning gray;
He plucked the harebell, and threw it away.