Once upon a time a robin¹ lived in the greenwood. Of all the birds his breast was the brightest, his music was the sweetest, and his life was the merriest. Every morning and evening he perched himself among the berries of the linden-tree, and carolled a song that made the whole forest joyous²; and all day long he fluttered among the flowers and shrubbery of the wild-wood, and twittered gayly to the brooks⁴, the ferns, and the lichens⁵.  
A violet grew among the mosses⁶ at the foot of the linden-tree where lived the robin. She was so very tiny and so very modest that few knew there was such a pretty little creature in the world. Withal she was so beautiful and so gentle that those who knew the violet loved her very [Pg 96]dearly.
 
The south wind came wooing the violet. He danced through the shrubbery and ferns, and lingered on the velvet⁸ moss⁷ where the little flower grew. But when he kissed her pretty face and whispered to her, she hung her head and said, "No, no; it cannot be."
 
"Nay⁹, little violet, do not be so cruel," pleaded the south wind; "let me bear you as my bride away to my splendid home in the south, where all is warmth and sunshine always."
 
But the violet kept repeating, "No, it cannot be; no, it cannot be," till at last the south wind stole away with a very heavy heart.
 
And the rose exclaimed, in an outburst of disgustful indignation: "What a foolish violet! How silly of her to refuse such a wooer as the south wind, who has a beautiful home and a patrimony¹⁰ of eternal warmth and sunshine!"
 
But the violet, as soon as the south wind had gone, looked up at the robin perched in the linden-tree and singing his clear song; and it seemed as if she blushed and as if she were thrilled with a great emotion as she beheld¹¹ him. But the robin did not see the violet. His [Pg 97]eyes were turned the other way, and he sang to the clouds in the sky.
 
The brook³ o'erleapt its banks one day, and straying toward the 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 mighty¹² river whose course no human power can direct, and whose force nothing can resist. Cast thyself upon my bosom¹³, sweet violet, and let us float together to that great destiny which awaits me."
 
But the violet shuddered¹⁴ and recoiled¹⁵ and said: "Nay, nay, impetuous brook, I will not be your bride." So, with many murmurs¹⁶ and complaints, the brook crept back to its jealous banks and resumed its devious¹⁷ and prattling¹⁸ 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 folly¹⁹! Where else is there a flower that would not have been glad to go upon such a [Pg 98]wonderful career? Oh, how short-sighted some folks are!"
 
But the violet paid no heed²⁰ to these words; she looked steadfastly²¹ up into the

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