''
And again he spoke to the birds and again they
carried all the seeds and strewed them far and wide.
But when next the Master came, he could not
find the flowers he loved best of all, and he said:
``Where are those, my sweetest flowers?''
And the Prairie cried sorrowfully: ``O Master,
I cannot keep the flowers, for the winds sweep
fiercely, and the sun beats upon my breast, and
they wither up and fly away.''
Then the Master spoke to the Lightning, and
with one swift blow the Lightning cleft the
Prairie to the heart. And the Prairie rocked and
groaned in agony, and for many a day moaned
bitterly over its black, jagged, gaping wound.
But a little river poured its waters through the
cleft, and carried down deep, black mould, and
once more the birds carried seeds and strewed
them in the canyon. And after a long time the
rough rocks were decked out with soft mosses
and trailing vines, and all the nooks were hung
with clematis and columbine, and great elms
lifted their huge tops high up into the sunlight,
and down about their feet clustered the low
cedars and balsams, and everywhere the violets
and wind-flowers and maiden-hair grew and
bloomed till the canyon became the Master's
place for rest and peace and joy.
CLYTIE, THE HELIOTROPE
BY OVID (ADAPTED)
There was once a Nymph named Clytie, who
gazed ever at Apollo as he drove his sun-chariot
through the heavens.
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