The day came when the good old woman died,
and the tulip-bed was torn up by folks who did
not know about the Fairies, and parsley was
planted there instead of the flowers. But the
parsley withered, and so did all the other plants
in the garden, and from that time nothing would
grow there.
But the good old woman's grave grew beautiful,
for the Fairies sang above it, and kept it
green; while on the grave and all around it there
sprang up tulips, daffodils, and violets, and other
lovely flowers of spring.
THE STREAM THAT RAN AWAY
BY MARY AUSTIN (ADAPTED)
In a short and shallow canyon running eastward
toward the sun, one may find a clear, brown
stream called the Creek of Pinon Pines; that is
not because it is unusual to find pinon trees in
that country, but because there are so few of
them in the canyon of the stream. There are all
sorts higher up on the slopes,--long-leaved yellow
pines, thimble cones, tamarack, silver fir,
and Douglas spruce; but in the canyon there is
only a group of the low-headed, gray nut pines
which the earliest inhabitants of that country
called pinons.
The Canyon of Pinon Pines has a pleasant
outlook and lies open to the sun. At the upper end
there is no more room by the stream border than
will serve for a cattle trail; willows grow in it,
choking the path of the water; there are brown
birches here and ropes of white clematis tangled
over thickets of brier rose.
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