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    Flower Fables
    Flower Fables
    Flower Fables
    Ebook155 pages3 hours

    Flower Fables

    By Louisa May Alcott

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    "This is a nice collection of fairy tales that is sure to please young readers and the adults reading to them alike. The writing is very beautiful and the book contains several gorgeous illustrations to accompany the stories and bring them to life through their beautiful artwork." — Of Stacks and Cups
    The author of Little Women possessed a special gift for capturing children's imaginations, and she wrote these fairy tales when she was just sixteen years old. Louisa May Alcott created the fanciful stories for the amusement of the daughter of a family friend, Ralph Waldo Emerson. Populated by elves, brownies, and other supernatural creatures, the fables conclude with memorable lessons for young readers about the power of love and kindness and the importance of responsibility.
    In "The Frost-King," steadfast Violet approaches the fearsome ruler of winter in order to bring warmth and sunshine to the flowers back home. "Lily-Bell and Thistledown" recounts a wayward spirit's attempts to reform; and "Ripple, the Water-Spirit" tells of the sacrifice and rewards involved in keeping a promise. These and six additional stories and poems are accompanied by charmingly evocative illustrations.

    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherDover Publications
    Release dateJun 3, 2015
    ISBN9780486805740
    Author

    Louisa May Alcott

    Louisa May Alcott (1832-1888) is the author of the beloved Little Women, which was based on her own experiences growing up in New England with her parents and three sisters. More than a century after her death, Louisa May Alcott's stories continue to delight readers of all ages.

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      Book preview

      Flower Fables - Louisa May Alcott

      There came a strange little boat filled with Elves.

      Flower Fables

      Louisa May Alcott

      WITH THIRTY-FOUR ILLUSTRATIONS

      Dover Publications, Inc.

      Mineola, New York

      Bibliographical Note

      This Dover edition, first published in 2015, is a newly reset, unabridged republication of the work originally published by Henry Altemus Company, Philadelphia, Pa., in 1898.

      Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data

      Alcott, Louisa May, 1832–1888, author.

      Flower fables / Louisa May Alcott.

      p. cm. — (Dover children’s classics)

      This Dover edition, first published in 2015, is a newly reset, unabridged republication of the work originally published by Henry Altemus Company, Philadelphia, Pa., in 1898.

      Summary: Six stories and three poems relate the adventures of the fairy folk and their friends, the flowers.

      eISBN-13: 978-0-486-80574-0

      1. Fairies—Literary collections. 2. Flowers—Literary collections. [1. Fairies—Fiction. 2. Flowers—Fiction. 3. Fairies—Poetry. 4. Flowers—Poetry.] I. Title.

      PZ7.A335Fl 1998

      [Fic]—dc21

      2015000710

      Manufactured in the United States by Courier Corporation

      79389301      2015

      www.doverpublications.com

      "Pondering shadows, colors, clouds,

      Grass-buds, and caterpillar shrouds,

      Boughs on which the wild bees settle,

      Tints that spot the violet’s petal."

      —Emerson’s Wood Notes

      TO

      ELLEN EMERSON,

      FOR WHOM THEY WERE FANCIED,

      THESE FLOWER FABLES

      ARE INSCRIBED,

      BY HER FRIEND,

      THE AUTHOR.

      Boston, Dec. 9, 1854.

      Contents

      The Frost-King; or, The Power of Love

      Eva’s Visit to Fairy-Land

      The Flower’s Lesson

      Lily-Bell and Thistledown

      Little Bud

      Clover-Blossom

      Little Annie’s Dream; or, The Fairy Flower

      Ripple, the Water-Spirit

      Fairy Song

      Oxlips.

      Flower Fables

      THE summer moon shone brightly down upon the sleeping earth, while far away from mortal eyes danced the Fairy-folk. Fireflies hung in bright clusters on the dewy leaves, that waved in the cool night-wind; and the flowers stood gazing, in very wonder, at the little Elves, who lay among the fern-leaves, swung in the vine-boughs, sailed on the lake in lily cups, or danced on the mossy ground, to the music of the harebells, who rung out their merriest peal in honor of the night.

      Under the shade of a wild rose sat the Queen and her little Maids of Honor, beside the silvery mushroom where the feast was spread.

      Now, my friends, said she, to while away the time till the bright moon goes down, let us each tell a tale, or relate what we have done or learned this day. I will begin with you, Sunny Lock, added she, turning to a lovely little Elf, who lay among the fragrant leaves of a primrose.

      With a gay smile, Sunny Lock began her story.

      As I was painting the bright petals of a blue bell, it told me this tale.

      The Frost-King; or, The Power of Love

      THREE little Fairies sat in the fields eating their breakfast; each among the leaves of her favorite flower, Daisy, Primrose, and Violet, were happy as Elves need be.

      The morning wind gently rocked them to and fro, and the sun shone warmly down upon the dewy grass, where butterflies spread their gay wings, and bees with their deep voices sung among the flowers; while the little birds hopped merrily about to peep at them.

      On a silvery mushroom was spread the breakfast; little cakes of flower-dust lay on a broad green leaf, beside a crimson strawberry, which, with sugar from the violet, and cream from the yellow milkweed, made a fairy meal, and their drink was the dew from the flowers’ bright leaves.

      Ah me, sighed Primrose, throwing herself languidly back, how warm the sun grows! give me another piece of strawberry, and then I must hasten away to the shadow of the ferns. But while I eat, tell me, dear Violet, why are you all so sad? I have scarce seen a happy face since my return from Rose Land; dear friend, what means it?

      I will tell you, replied little Violet, the tears gathering in her soft eyes. Our good Queen is ever striving to keep the dear flowers from the power of the cruel Frost-King; many ways she tried, but all have failed. She has sent messengers to his court with costly gifts; but all have returned sick for want of sunlight, weary and sad; we have watched over them, heedless of sun or shower, but still his dark spirits do their work, and we are left to weep over our blighted blossoms. Thus have we striven, and in vain; and this night our Queen holds council for the last time. Therefore are we sad, dear Primrose, for she has toiled and cared for us, and we can do nothing to help or advise her now.

      It is indeed a cruel thing, replied her friend; but as we cannot help it, we must suffer patiently, and not let the sorrows of others disturb our happiness. But, dear sisters, see you not how high the sun is getting? I have my locks to curl, and my robe to prepare for the evening; therefore I must be gone, or I shall be brown as a withered leaf in this warm light. So, gathering a tiny mushroom for a parasol, she flew away; Daisy soon followed, and Violet was left alone.

      Then she spread the table afresh, and to it came fearlessly the busy ant and bee, gay butterfly and bird; even the poor blind mole and humble worm were not forgotten; and with gentle words she gave to all, while each learned something of their kind little teacher; and the love that made her own heart bright shone alike on all.

      The ant and bee learned generosity, the butterfly and bird contentment, the mole and worm confidence in the love of others; and each went to their home better for the little time they had been with Violet.

      Evening came, and with it troops of Elves to counsel their good Queen, who, seated on her mossy throne, looked anxiously upon the throng below, whose glittering wings and rustling robes gleamed like many-colored flowers.

      At length she rose, and amid the deep silence spoke thus:

      Dear children, let us not tire of a good work, hard though it be and wearisome; think of the many little hearts that in their sorrow look to us for help. What would the green earth be without its lovely flowers, and what a lonely home for us! Their beauty fills our hearts with brightness, and their love with tender thoughts. Ought we then to leave them to die, uncared for and alone? They give to us their all; ought we not to toil unceasingly, that they may bloom in peace within their quiet homes? We have tried to gain the love of the stern Frost-King, but in vain; his heart is hard as his own icy land; no love can melt, no kindness bring it back to sunlight and to joy. How then may we keep our frail blossoms from his cruel Spirits? Who will give us counsel? Who will be our messenger for the last time? Speak, my subjects.

      Water violets.

      Then a great murmuring arose, and many spoke, some for costlier gifts, some for war; and the fearful counseled patience and submission.

      Long and eagerly they spoke, and their soft voices rose high.

      Then sweet music sounded on the air, and the loud tones were hushed, as in wondering silence the Fairies waited what should come.

      Through the crowd there came a little form, a wreath of pure white violets lay among the bright locks that fell so softly round the gentle face, where a deep blush glowed, as, kneeling at the throne, little Violet said:

      "Dear Queen, we have bent to the Frost-King’s power, we have borne gifts unto his pride, but have we gone trustingly to him and spoken fearlessly of his evil deeds? Have we shed the soft light of unwearied love around his cold heart, and with patient tenderness shown him how bright and beautiful love can make even the darkest lot?

      "Our messengers have gone fearfully, and with cold looks and courtly words offered him rich gifts, things he cared not for, and with equal pride has he sent them back.

      "Then let me, the weakest of your band, go to him, trusting in the love I know lies hidden in the coldest heart.

      I will bear only a garland of our fairest flowers; these will I wind about him, and their bright faces, looking lovingly in his, will bring sweet thoughts to his dark mind, and their soft breath steal in like gentle words. Then, when he sees them fading on his breast, will he not sigh that there is no warmth there to keep them fresh and lovely? This will I do, dear Queen, and never leave his dreary home, till the sunlight falls on flowers fair as those that bloom in our own dear land.

      Silently the Queen had listened, but now, rising and placing her hand on little Violet’s head, she said, turning to the throng below:

      We in our pride and power have erred, while this, the weakest and lowliest of our subjects, has from the innocence of her own pure heart counseled us more wisely than the noblest of our train. All who will aid our brave little messenger, lift your wands, that we may know who will place their trust in the Power of Love.

      Every fairy wand glistened in the air, as with silvery voices they cried, Love and little Violet.

      Then down from the throne, hand in hand, came the Queen and Violet, and till the moon sank did the Fairies toil, to weave a wreath of the fairest flowers. Tenderly they gathered them, with the night-dew fresh upon their leaves, and as they wove chanted sweet spells, and whispered fairy blessings on the bright messengers whom they sent forth to die in a dreary land, that their gentle kindred might bloom unharmed.

      At length it was done; and the fair flowers lay glowing in

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