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Updated: June 27, 2025
I had thought of her as a snowdrop at first, then a windflower, the March anemone, with its touch of crimson, then various white, ivory, and cream-coloured blossoms with a faintly-seen pink blush to them.
For like Socrates in the Symposium, his desire is not merely for a fleeting vision of beauty, but for birth and generation in beauty. And the beauty which he is enabled to bring into the world will never cease to propagate itself. So, though he be as fragile as a windflower, he may assure himself,
"If she doesn't she may have to repeat Bryant's 'Death of the Flowers': 'The windflower and the violet, they perished long ago." "Look out, Della; don't pick that! Don't pick that, it's poison ivy!" cried Ethel Brown as all the Club members were walking on the road towards Grandfather Emerson's. A vine with handsome glossy leaves reached an inviting cluster toward passers-by.
Some girls carry the child far into their teens, and Head the mirthful innocence of infancy with the richer, fuller life of budding womanhood. This was true of Elsie. Hers was not the forced exotic bloom of fashionable life; but rather one of the native blossoms of her New England home, having all the delicacy and at the same time hardiness of the windflower.
"I suppose so," sighed the Rosebush; "but it is just as I have always said. You never can tell about the quiet, modest ones. Think of the little Windflower having such a story and flying away with the Wind. My, my! What a world!"
The treaty itself filled so many pages of parchment that no one attempted to read it, the owl certifying that it was all correct: an extract, however, divested of technical expressions, was handed about the court, and was to the following effect: The Treaty of Windflower Copse.
She had been negative and colourless, but now she was a lovely mystery a half-blown windflower on some brown, bare hillside, where Life, in all its fulness, was yet to come. "Did you tell your Grandmother and Aunt Matilda?" "No. How could I?" "You'd better not. They'd only make it hard for you, and I wouldn't be allowed in the parlour anyway." Rosemary had not thought of that.
"But you are a small family, I think," said the Rosebush. "I have seen very few of your kind in our garden." "No, we are a numerous and beautiful family," said the Windflower. "Oh, how conceited she is!" said the Rosebush in a whisper to the Pansies. "Think of calling herself beautiful. For my part, I think her white and purple quite plain-looking."
She was very dainty and lovely, was Caroline Darrah Brown, with the loveliness of a windflower and young with the innocent youngness of an April day. She was slightly different from any girl the major had ever known and he observed her type with the greatest interest.
When she opened her petals to look around the garden again the little Windflower was not there. "Why, where has the Windflower gone?" she asked. "Oh, you missed it!" said the Pansies, nodding very knowingly. "That breeze came to tell the Windflower that the Wind would be along in a minute. We heard him, so we watched, and in a little while the Wind came and took the Windflower away with him.
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