Clytie was the name of a beautiful nymph who lived in a coral cave far down in the depths of the sea. It happened one morning that she ventured to the surface of the water and looked toward the east. In the distance where the earth and sky met she saw a marvellous sight. Aurora, the goddess of dawn, rolled aside the soft grey curtains of the morning sky and there, waiting for the day's journey, stood Apollo's jeweled car. Clytie saw the sun-god leap into his seat and take lightly in hand the reins of his restless, prancing steeds. Then up the steep slope of the eastern sky he drove, and the gleam from his dazzling chariot filled the air with golden light. All day long Clytie sat on the rocks near the shore and watched Apollo in his brilliant course. At evening when the last beams from the sun-god's car sank into the western sea, the nymph, with a deep sigh, returned to her coral halls. But she no longer took keen delight in fashioning delicate shells and tending her seaweed gardens. She had fallen in love with the sun-god and longed with all her heart to see him again. One morning very early she rose to the surface of the water and wandered eastward toward a large green meadow which was very near the place where Apollo started his course. Again she saw the "rosy-fingered Dawn" roll aside the soft grey curtains; again she saw the radiant beauty of the sun-god. Clytie fixed her eyes on the driver of the golden chariot and never for one moment lost sight of him in his day's journey through the sky. For nine days the sea-nymph lingered in the meadow, tasting neither food nor drink, hoping for some small sign of favour from Apollo. But he was too intent on his marvellous course to find interest in the adoring Clytie. Her constancy, however, touched the heart of the sun-god with pity, and he changed her into a flower. Her slender limbs became a tall green stem, her delicate sea-green dress turned into leaves, and her lovely face and golden hair changed into sun-like flowers which faithfully follow the brilliant god of day all through his course. THE BLUEBELL There is a story I have heard; A poet learned it of a bird, And kept its music, every word. About two thousand years ago, A little flower, as white as snow, Swayed in the silence to and fro. Day after day with longing eye, The floweret watched the narrow sky And the fleecy clouds that floated by. And swiftly o'er its petals white, There crept a blueness like the light Of skies, upon a summer night. And in its chalice, I am told, The bonny bell was found to hold A tiny star that gleamed like gold. THE DEW MOTHER'S GIFT TO THE ROSE