Oh, come and see!" And
I hear; and I bow my head in the summer
wind; and every day they watch me grow
more beautiful, till at last I shake out
blossoms, fair and fragrant.
"`A few days more, and I drop the white
petals down among the grass, and, lo! the
green tiny berries! Carefully I hold them
up to the sun; carefully I gather the dew
in the summer nights; slowly they ripen;
they grow larger and redder and darker,
and at last they are black, shining,
delicious. I hold them as high as I can for
the little boy, who comes dancing out. He
shouts with joy, and gathers them in his
dear hand; and he runs to share them with
his mother, saying, "Here is what the
patient blackberry-bush bore for us: see how
nice, mamma!"
"`Ah! then indeed I am glad, and would
say, if I could, "Yes, take them, dear little
boy; I kept them for you, held them long
up to sun and rain to make them sweet and
ripe for you;" and I nod and nod in full
content, for my work is done. From the
window he watches me and thinks, "There
is the little blackberry-bush that was so
kind to me. I see it and I love it. I know
it is safe out there nodding all alone, and
next summer it will hold ripe berries up
for me to gather again." '"
Then the wee boy smiled, and liked the
little story. His mother took him up in her
arms, and they went out to supper and left
the blackberry-bush nodding up and down
in the wind; and there it is nodding yet.
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