Swiftly Apollo drew
near even as the keen greyhound draws near to
the frightened hare he is pursuing. With trembling
limbs Daphne sought the river, the home of
her father, Peneus. Close behind her was Apollo,
the sun-god. She felt his breath on her hair and
his hand on her shoulder. Her strength was spent,
she grew pale, and in faint accents she implored
the river:--
``O save me, my father, save me from Apollo,
the sun-god!''
Scarcely had she thus spoken before a heaviness
seized her limbs. Her breast was covered with
bark, her hair grew into green leaves, and her
arms into branches. Her feet, a moment before so
swift, became rooted to the ground. And Daphne
was no longer a Nymph, but a green laurel tree.
When Apollo beheld this change he cried out
and embraced the tree, and kissed its leaves.
``Beautiful Daphne,'' he said, ``since thou cannot
be my bride, yet shalt thou be my tree. Henceforth
my hair, my lyre, and my quiver shall be
adorned with laurel. Thy wreaths shall be given
to conquering chiefs, to winners of fame and joy;
and as my head has never been shorn of its locks,
so shalt thou wear thy green leaves, winter and
summer--forever!''
Apollo ceased speaking and the laurel bent its
new-made boughs in assent, and its stem seemed
to shake and its leaves gently to murmur.
BIRD DAY
THE OLD WOMAN WHO BECAME A
WOODPECKER
BY PHOEBE CARY (ADAPTED)
Afar in the Northland, where the winter days are
so short and the nights so long, and where they
harness the reindeer to sledges, and where the
children look like bear's cubs in their funny, furry
clothes, there, long ago, wandered a good Saint on
the snowy roads.
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