Legends of the Flowers

The Scarlet Pimpernel.

W

hen skies are bright and winter's o'er,
And leaves and flowers return once more,
A little blossom 'mongst the grass
Peeps at wayfarers as they pass.

'Mongst gayer buds of larger size
It modest opes its purple eyes;
And those who love the flowers know well
The little Scarlet Pimpernel.

It hath a story of its own,
That unto country-folk is known;
For Nature's hand hath given it strange
Perception of the weather's change.

If clear will be the day, and fair,
It opens wide its petals rare;
But if the clouds should threaten rain,
It shuts them up quite close again.

The shepherds love the little flower
That tells them of the changeful hour,
And many a one asks, "Tell me, pray,
What weather there will be to-day."

And so in time another name,
In honour of its rare gift, came;
And the wee blossom 'mongst the grass