knew not how to express her love. Although she was not remarkable
for her beauty, yet the Child felt himself wondrously attracted by
her, for he thought no flower loved him so well. But the Hyacinth
poured out her full heart and wept bitterly, because she stood so
lonely; the Tulips indeed were her countrymen, but they were so cold
and unfeeling that she was ashamed of them. The Child encouraged
her, and told her he did not think things were so bad as she
fancied. The Tulips spoke their love in bright looks, while she
uttered hers in fragrant words; that these, indeed, were lovelier
and more intelligible, but that the others were not to be despised.

Then the Hyacinth was comforted, and said she would be content; and
the Child went on to the powdered Auricula, who, in her bashfulness,
looked kindly up to him, and would gladly have given him more than
kind looks, had she had more to give. But the Child was satisfied
with her modest greeting; he felt that he was poor too, and he saw
the deep, thoughtful colours that lay beneath her golden dust. But
the humble flower, of her own accord, sent him to her neighbour, the
Lily, whom she willingly acknowledged as her queen. And when the
Child came to the Lily, the slender flower waved to and fro and
bowed her pale head with gentle pride and stately modesty, and sent
forth a fragrant greeting to him. The Child knew not what had come
to him: it reached his inmost heart, so that his eyes filled with
soft tears. Then he marked how the lily gazed with a clear and
steadfast eye upon the sun, and how the sun looked down again into
her pure chalice, and how, amid this interchange of looks, the three
golden threads united in the centre. And the Child heard how one
scarlet Lady-bird at the bottom of the cup said to another, "Knowest
thou not that we dwell in the flower of heaven?" and the other
replied, "Yes; and now will the mystery be fulfilled." And as the