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About The Hesperian / (Lincoln, Neb.) 1885-1899 | View Entire Issue (March 1, 1895)
v, - hu 4 u ' THE HESPEKIAN CHRYSANTHEMUMS. .-.'- She stands, my lady tall and fair, Then curt'sys low (A stately bow,) Her ruff, good Queen Elizabeth In shame with her's might not compare, ' So wide it is, and white as snow Oh my pale, sweet lady ! As cherries red, or bitter-sweet, So bright is she As bright can be. Tier robes of scarlet waving sweep; Her ribbons flutter to her feet; But she is cruelly cold to me Oh my hard, cold, coquette 1 No queen in court upon her throne Is half so grand: I dare not stand To look at her so royal in her beauty; They bow who bow to her alone, The noblest maiden in the land Oh my proud, purple, queen I The sun that sets adown thp west A blaze of light (Most glorious sight); A field of gleaming buttercups; A heap of gold; a finch's breast; Are dull when thou art bright, Oh my dainty, golden, maiden ! There stands the vase on the mantle high, (A rare old bit): 1 envy it The wealth of beauty that it holds, The fragrant, waving, golden lit You are so fair you make me sigh, Oh my proud Chrysanthemums ! Amy C. Bruner. LAUGHING WATER. It was a happy, noisy littlo stream that leaped and frolicked over its rocky bed. one bright summer day. Not many minutes bo foro it had burst forth from its dark, earthy prison, a clear, pure mass of sparkling drops, and after the first splash of surprise, had rushed merrily on now in the bright sun shine, now in the cool, refreshing shade of the hillside, thou rushing, gurgling, splash ing over the smooth rocks which sought to detain the bright littlo jowol ; and again flowing quietly, restfully along, listening to the sweet music of the birds, and the soft low rustling of the leaves. This littlo brook was just as happy and contented as are hundreds of other brooklets .which are purest and sweetest in their moun tain homes; but to ours is promised a beau tiful, romantic experience which no other can ever share. It must leave its homo in the hills, its dear rocks and mosses, and flow quietly along through the fields and meadows before it hears in the distance the first, faint, dreamy murmur of Minnehaha, "calling to it through the silence." Louder, clearer, merrier, grows the laugh tor, and the littlo brook hastens on, hushing its own Bweot music lost it drown the maid en's voice. Daisies nod their pretty heads over tho banks, dainty blue-bolls smile at the happy brook as it hurries along, and tho slender willow bonds gracefully over, whispering some sweet message for Laughing Water. A stately pine sighs gently, "Ah, fortunate littlo brook, toll Laughing Wator I shall see her sweet face yet over yonder selfish oak, who hides her beauty from mo now, but can never drown her happy voice. ' ' Suddenly, unexpected to tho littlo drops, Minnehaha seizes them, laughing merrily at r, i4 M 4 .." 4 j r '3 m 1 1