I love them so—my green things growing,
And I think they love me without any knowing;
For by many a tender touch, they comfort me so much,
With the soft mute comfort of green things growing.
Dinah Mulock Craik.
THE STORY OF A LITTLE GRAIN OF WHEAT[4]
May Bryon
Once upon a time there was a little grain of Wheat. It was a tiny brown thing, quite hard and dry. It looked like somebody who had wrapped himself up in a cloak and gone to sleep, with his head and feet and all covered up. That was really what had happened. The grain of Wheat was fast asleep.