The harebell shivered, and cried, “Oh! oh!
I am faint, so faint! Come, dear wind, blow.”
The wind blew softly, and did not speak.
She thanked him kindly, but grew more weak.
“Sun, dear sun, I am cold,” she said.
He rose; but lower she drooped her head.
“O rain! I am withering; all the blue
Is fading out of me;—come, please do.”
The rain came down as fast as it could,
But for all its will it did her no good.