linden-tree, it was amazed at the loveliness of the violet. Never had it
seen any flower half so beautiful.

"Oh, come and be my bride," cried the brook. "I am young and small now,
but presently you shall see me grow to a mighty river whose course no
human power can direct, and whose force nothing can resist. Cast thyself
upon my bosom, sweet violet, and let us float together to that great
destiny which awaits me."

But the violet shuddered and recoiled and said: "Nay, nay, impetuous
brook, I will not be your bride." So, with many murmurs and complaints,
the brook crept back to its jealous banks and resumed its devious and
prattling way to the sea.

"Bless me!" cried the daisy, "only to think of that silly violet's
refusing the brook! Was there ever another such piece of folly! Where else
is there a flower that would not have been glad to go upon such a
wonderful career? Oh, how short-sighted some folks are!"

But the violet paid no heed to these words; she looked steadfastly up into
the foliage of the linden-tree where the robin was carolling. The robin
did not see the violet; he was singing to the tops of the fir-trees over
yonder.

The days came and went. The robin sang and fluttered in the greenwood, and
the violet bided among the mosses at the foot of the linden; and although
the violet's face was turned always upward to where the robin perched and
sang, the robin never saw the tender little flower.

One day a huntsman came through the greenwood, and an arrow from his cruel