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<h3>THE SNOWDROP</h3> Hans Christian Andersen A deep snow covered the ground for it was winter time. The air was cold and the sharp wind blew, but in one tiny house all was snug and warm. There under earth and snow in its bulb lay a little flower. One day when the rain fell, little drops trickled through the snow coverlet down into the earth and told the flower bulb about the light above. And presently a sunbeam, pointed and slender, pierced its way through the ground and tapped on the little bulb. “Come in,” said the flower. “I cannot,” said the sunbeam. “I am not strong enough to lift the latch. I shall be stronger when spring comes.” “When will it be spring?” asked the flower. Soon many other little sunbeams tapped on the door of the brown house and the flower asked each of them, [128] “When will it be spring?” But the ground was covered with snow and every night there was ice on the water. Spring seemed so far away that the little flower sighed and said impatiently: “How long it is! How long it is! I feel quite cribbed and cramped. I must stretch out a little. I must rise up; lift the latch and look out. Then I shall say merrily to the spring, ‘Good morning!’” Now the walls of the flower’s house had been softened by the rain, warmed by the earth and snow and tapped upon by the sunbeams. So when the flower within pushed and pushed against the walls they gently gave way. Then up from under the earth shot the flower with a pale green bud on its tender stalk and long slender leaves that curled around it for a screen. The glittering snow was very cold but easier to push through than the solid brown earth. “Welcome, welcome!” sang the evening sunbeam. “Welcome, sweet little blossom.” The flower lifted its head above the snow[129] into the world of light; the sunbeams cheered it with kisses until it unfolded itself white as the snow and decked with green stripes. “Thou art a little too early,” said the wind and the weather. “We still hold sway. It is entirely too cold for thee.” “Beautiful flower,” sang the sunbeams, “how lovely thou art in thy white purity. Thou art the herald of Spring,—our first flower. Thy fair white bell shall ring the glad tidings of Spring over towns and fields. The snow shall melt, the bitter wind shall be driven away. Now earth shall send forth all her lovely blossoms and thou shalt have beautiful fellowship. Welcome!” The words of the sunbeams gave deep delight to the flower. It bowed its head in gladness and humility. The weather was cold enough to freeze it to pieces—such a delicate little flower—but it was stronger than any one knew. It was strong in its glad faith in the spring and the message of the sunbeams. And so with patient hope it stood in its white dress in the white snow, bowing its head when[130] the snow flakes fell and courageously lifting it again when the sunbeams scattered the clouds. “A snowdrop,” shouted the children who came running into the garden. “There it stands so pretty, so beautiful—the first, the only one. It is spring’s messenger. “Spring’s messenger,” echoed from the keen morning air. <hr class="chap" />  [131] <div style="break-after:column;"></div>

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