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For this reason, I mean to call them Primrose, Periwinkle, Sweet Fern, Dandelion, Blue Eye, Clover, Huckleberry, Cowslip, Squash-blossom, Milkweed, Plantain, and Buttercup; although, to be sure, such titles might better suit a group of fairies than a company of earthly children.
I wish there were any likelihood of my soon seeing Primrose, Periwinkle, Dandelion, Sweet Fern, Clover Plantain, Huckleberry, Milkweed, Cowslip, Buttercup, Blue Eye, and Squash Blossom again. Heaven bless them, and everybody else, whether grown people or children! In the old city of Troezene, at the foot of a lofty mountain, there lived, a very long time ago, a little boy named Theseus.
Already in certain northern flower-pots the trillium, the bloodroot, the dog's-tooth violet, and the celandine are abloom in May; as June advances, the wild violet, the milkweed, the wild lily-of-the-valley, unfold their petals; later in summer the dog-rose displays its charms and breathes its perfume.
Why they do not simply push the strange egg out, we do not know, but instead of that they often fly off for milkweed fibres and silk to make a new nest right on top of the first one, shutting the hateful egg out of sight underneath.
Many of the prettiest flowers are, like our milkweed, nourished by a milky juice, and when severed from the parent stem, not only weep thick white tears, which stain the hands and the garments, but utterly refuse to subsist on water, and begin at once to droop. Is it the vitality in the air which forces even the plants to eccentricities?
This is that milkweed from whose stems the Indians flayed fibre to make snares for small game, but what use the beetles put it to except for a displaying ground for their gay coats, I could never discover. The white butterfly crop comes on with the bigelovia bloom, and on warm mornings makes an airy twinkling all across the field.
Nothing stirred there, save some butterflies whirling around each other over a bed of purple milkweed, but we all watched the crossing, rifles at a ready, as the youthful Oneida waded slowly out into the full sunshine, the spray glittering like beaded topazes on his yellow paint.
Hastings knew him for a friend, and before his eyes there came a vision of tall mulleins and scented milkweed alive with painted wings, a vision of a white house and woodbine-covered piazza, a glimpse of a man reading and a woman leaning over the pansy bed, and his heart was full. He was startled a moment later by Miss Byng. "I believe you are homesick!" Hastings blushed.
Her legs, however, were much shorter and more powerful than those of a cat; and when, for a moment of wary observation, she stood still, her feet came down flatly, like those of a bear, though in running she went on her toes, light as the seed of the milkweed.
In the foreground were blue Raspberry-stems, yet bearing greenish leaves, pale-yellow Witch-Hazel, almost leafless, purple Viburnum-berries, the silky cocoons of the Milkweed, and, amid the underbrush, a few lingering Asters and Golden-Rods, Ferns still green, and Maidenhair bleached white.
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