ice on the water every night.

"What a long time it takes! what a long time it takes!" said the
Flower. "I feel a stirring and striving within me; I must stretch
myself, I must unlock the door, I must get out, and must nod a good
morning to the summer, and what a happy time that will be!"

And the Flower stirred and stretched itself within the thin rind
which the water had softened from without, and the snow and the
earth had warmed, and the Sunbeam had knocked at; and it shot forth
under the snow with a greenish-white blossom on a green stalk, with
narrow thick leaves, which seemed to want to protect it. The snow
was cold, but was pierced by the Sunbeam, therefore it was easy to get
through it, and now the Sunbeam came with greater strength than
before.

"Welcome, welcome!" sang and sounded every ray, and the Flower
lifted itself up over the snow into the brighter world. The Sunbeams
caressed and kissed it, so that it opened altogether, white as snow,
and ornamented with green stripes. It bent its head in joy and
humility.

"Beautiful Flower!" said the Sunbeams, "how graceful and
delicate you are! You are the first, you are the only one! You are our
love! You are the bell that rings out for summer, beautiful summer,
over country and town. All the snow will melt; the cold winds will
be driven away; we shall rule; all will become green, and then you
will have companions, syringas, laburnums, and roses; but you are
the first, so graceful, so delicate!"

That was a great pleasure. It seemed as if the air were singing
and sounding, as if rays of light were piercing through the leaves and
the stalks of the Flower. There it stood, so delicate and so easily
broken, and yet so strong in its young beauty; it stood there in its
white dress with the green stripes, and made a summer. But there was a
long time yet to the summer-time. Clouds hid the sun, and bleak
winds were blowing.

"You have come too early," said Wind and Weather. "We have still
the power, and you shall feel it, and give it up to us. You should
have stayed quietly at home and not have run out to make a display
of yourself. Your time is not come yet!"

It was a cutting cold! The days which now come brought not a
single sunbeam. It was weather that might break such a little Flower
in two with cold. But the Flower had more strength than she herself
knew of. She was strong in joy and in faith in the summer, which would
be sure to come, which had been announ