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The Violets

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The sun turned out and shone down on the leafless trees that cast scarcely any shadows on the pathway through the forested areas.

“Clearly the spring is nearing,” the winged animals said; “it must be time to wake the blooms.”

The thrush, and the warbler, and the linnet sang sweetly. A robin flew up from the snow, and roosted upon a branch; a bit worn out kid toward the end of the wood ceased and tuned in.

“Clearly the spring is nearing,” he excessively said; “and mother will get well.”
The blooms that all through the winter had been resting in the ground heard the winged animals, however they were sluggish, and ached to think about. Finally the snowdrops came up and looked shiveringly about; and a primrose leaf peeped through the ground, and kicked the bucket of cool. At that point a few violets opened their blue eyes, and, covered up underneath the tangle of the wood, listened to the twittering of the fowls. The minimal battered kid dropped by ; he saw the delicate blooms, and, stooping down, accumulated them one by one, and place them into a wicker bushel that hung upon his arm.

“Dear blooms,” he said, with a murmur, as though loth to pick them, “you will purchase poor mother some breakfast,” and, tying them up into little bundles, he conveyed them to the town. All the morning he remained by the street side, offering his blooms to the passers-by, yet nobody took any notification of him; and his face became miserable and vexed. “Poor mother!” he said, longingly; and the blossoms heard him, and moaned.

“Those violets are sweet,” a woman said as she passed; the kid pursued her.

“Just a penny,” he said, “only one penny, for mother is at home.” Then the woman purchased them, and conveyed them to the excellent house in which she lived, and issued them some water, touching them so delicately that the poor violets neglected to ache for the forested areas, and gazed thankfully upward into hei face.

“Mother,” said the kid, “see, I have brought some bread for your breakfast. The violets sent it to you,” and he put the little roll down before her.

The winged animals remained unaware of this, and continued singing till the ground was secured with blossoms, till the leaves had concealed the chestnut branches of the trees, and the pathway through the forested areas was all shade, put something aside for the daylight that spotted it with light.


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