Part 6 (2/2)

After finis.h.i.+ng his pipe he empties the ashes reverently upon the ground near the pasque flower which he has been contemplating. Then he rises and plucks the flower prayerfully and carries it carefully home to show to his grandchildren, singing as he goes, the song of the pasque flower, which he learned as a child and which he now teaches to his grandchildren, commending to them the example of the flower in its courage and endurance and its faithfulness.

THE SONG OF THE PASQUE FLOWER

By Rev. Ignatius Forster, O. S. B.

Mount Marty, Yankton, South Dakota.

February 1, 1921.

Lovely Pasque Flower, Herald of Spring, Proclaiming the hour, Gladly to sing.

Gently thou greetest The wintry sun; Boldly thou peepest If snow is gone.

Callest thy playmates Who still do sleep: ”Arise, lo, spring waits!

No longer weep.”

Slowly they waken, Lowly they sigh: ”Wasn't that beckon Pasque Flower's cry?”

They rise in raiments Of colors bright; Pasque Flower's garments Are h.o.a.ry white.

n.o.ble thy preaching, Pasque flower brave; ”Work,” is thy teaching, ”Unto the grave.”

Lovely Pasque Flower, Herald of Spring Proclaiming the hour To work and sing.

Father Forster was moved to write this delightful little song upon reading one evening, (February 1, 1921), the foregoing prose account of the Dakota (Sioux) Song of the Pasque Flower or Hoksi-Cekpa Wahca.

THE PRAIRIE ROSE

The prairie was gray and drab, no beautiful flowers brightened it, it had only dull greenish-gray herbs and gra.s.ses, and Mother Earth's heart was sad because her robe was lacking in beauty and brightness.

Then the Holy Earth, our mother, sighed and said, ”Ah, my robe is not beautiful, it is sombre and dull. I wish it might be bright and beautiful with flowers and splendid with color. I have many beautiful, sweet and dainty flowers in my heart. I wish to have them upon my robe. I wish to have upon my robe flowers blue like the clear sky in fair weather. I wish also to have flowers white like the pure snow of winter and like the high white cloudlets of a quiet summer day. I wish also to have brilliant yellow flowers like the splendor of the sun at noon of a summer day. And I wish to have delicate pink flowers like the color of the dawn light of a joyous day in springtime. I would also have flowers red like the clouds at evening when the sun is going down below the western edge of the world. All these beautiful flowers are in my heart, but I am sad when I look upon my old dull, gray and brown robe.”

Then a sweet little pink flower said, ”Do not grieve mother, I will go up upon your robe and beautify it.” So the little pink flower came up from the heart of Mother Earth to be upon the sad prairie of her mother's robe.

Now when the Wind Demon saw the pink flower there he said, ”Indeed she is pretty, but I will not have her trespa.s.sing in my playground.” So the Wind Demon rushed at her shouting and roaring and blew out her life, but her spirit returned to the heart of Mother Earth.

And when the other flowers ventured, one after another to come out upon the prairie which was Mother Earth's robe, the Wind Demon destroyed them also and their spirits returned to the heart of Holy Mother Earth.

At last Prairie Rose offered to go and brighten the appearance of Mother Earth's robe, the prairie. Mother Earth said fondly, ”Yes, dear, sweet child, I will let you go. You are so lovely and your breath is so sweet, it may be that the Wind Demon will be charmed by you, and that he will let you remain on his ground.” And Prairie Rose said, ”Yes, dear mother, I will go, for I desire that my mother's robe shall be beautiful. But if the Wind Demon should blow out my life my spirit shall return home to the heart of my mother.”

So Prairie Rose made the toilsome journey up through the dark ground and came out upon the sad gray prairie. And as she was going Mother Earth said in her heart, ”Oh, I hope the Wind Demon will allow her to live for I wish my robe to be beautiful!”

Now when the Wind Demon saw Prairie Rose he rushed at her shouting and said, ”Indeed, though she is pretty I shall not allow her to be upon my ground. I will blow out her life.” So he came on roaring and drawing his breath in strong gusts. Just then he caught the fragrance of the breath of Prairie Rose. ”Ah,” he said, ”how sweet her breath is! Why, I do not have it in my heart to blow out the life of such a beautiful little maiden whose breath is so sweet! I love her. She shall stay here with me. And I must make my voice gentle and sing a melodious song, for I wish not to frighten her with my awful noise.”

So he became quiet and breathed gentle breezes which pa.s.sed over the prairie gra.s.ses whispering and humming little songs of gladness.

Then the other flowers also came up through the dark ground and out upon the dull, gray prairie and made it bright and joyous with their presence. And the wind came to love all the flowers and the gra.s.ses.

And so the robe of our Mother Earth became beautiful because of the loveliness and the sweet breath of the Prairie Rose.

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