The Snowdrop Page #2

								

a jest; the girl had made a fool of him, that was no jest, she had,
during the summer, chosen another friend.

Next morning the sun shone in upon the little flattened
Snowdrop, that looked as if it had been painted upon the floor. The
servant girl, who was sweeping out the room, picked it up, and laid it
in one of the books which were upon the table, in the belief that it
must have fallen out while the room was being arranged. Again the
flower lay among verses--printed verses--and they are better than
written ones--at least, more money has been spent upon them.

And after this years went by. The book stood upon the
book-shelf, and then it was taken up and somebody read out of it. It
was a good book; verses and songs by the old Danish poet, Ambrosius
Stub, which are well worth reading. The man who was now reading the
book turned over a page.

"Why, there's a flower!" he said; "a snowdrop, a summer gauk, a
poet gauk! That flower must have been put in there with a meaning!
Poor Ambrosius Stub! he was a summer fool too, a poet fool; he came
too early, before his time, and therefore he had to taste the sharp
winds, and wander about as a guest from one noble landed proprietor to
another, like a flower in a glass of water, a flower in rhymed verses!
Summer fool, winter fool, fun and folly--but the first, the only,
the fresh young Danish poet of those days. Yes, thou shalt remain as a
token in the book, thou little snowdrop: thou hast been put there with
a meaning."

And so the Snowdrop was put back into the book, and felt equally
honored and pleased to know that it was a token in the glorious book
of songs, and that he who was the first to sing and to write had
been also a snowdrop, had been a summer gauk, and had been looked upon
in the winter-time as a fool. The Flower understood this, in her
way, as we interpret everything in our way.

That is the story of the Snowdrop.
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