I would be fair and stately , with a bright star to shine And give a queenly air to this crimson robe of mine . '' And proudly she cried , `` These fire-flies shall be My jewels , since the stars can never come to me . '' Just then a tiny dew-drop that hung o'er the dell On the breast of the bud like a soft star fell ; But impatiently she flung it away from her leaf , And it fell on her mother like a tear of grief , While she folded to her breast , with wilful pride , A glittering fire-fly that hung by her side . `` Heed , '' said the mother rose , `` daughter mine , Why shouldst thou seek for beauty not thine ? The Father hath made thee what thou now art ; And what he most loveth is a sweet , pure heart . Then why dost thou take with such discontent The loving gift which he to thee hath sent ? For the cool fresh dew will render thee far More lovely and sweet than the brightest star ; They were made for Heaven , and can never come to shine Like the fire-fly thou hast in that foolish breast of thine . O my foolish little bud , do listen to thy mother ; Care only for true beauty , and seek for no other . There will be grief and trouble in that wilful little heart ; Unfold thy leaves , my daughter , and let the fly depart . '' But the proud little bud would have her own will , And folded the fire-fly more closely still ; Till the struggling insect tore open the vest Of purple and green , that covered her breast . When the sun came up , she saw with grief The blooming of her sister bud leaf by leaf . While she , once as fair and bright as the rest , Hung her weary head down on her wounded breast . Bright grew the sunshine , and the soft summer air Was filled with the music of flowers singing there ; But faint grew the little bud with thirst and pain , And longed for the cool dew ; but now ' t was in vain . Then bitterly she wept for her folly and pride , As drooping she stood by her fair sister 's side . Then the rose mother leaned the weary little head On her bosom to rest , and tenderly she said : `` Thou hast learned , my little bud , that , whatever may betide , Thou canst win thyself no joy by passion or by pride . The loving Father sends the sunshine and the shower , That thou mayst become a perfect little flower ; -- The sweet dews to feed thee , the soft wind to cheer , And the earth as a pleasant home , while thou art dwelling here . Then shouldst thou not be grateful for all this kindly care , And strive to keep thyself most innocent and fair ? Then seek , my little blossom , to win humility ; Be fair without , be pure within , and thou wilt happy be . So when the quiet Autumn of thy fragrant life shall come , Thou mayst pass away , to bloom in the Flower Spirits ' home . '' Then from the mother 's breast , where it still lay hid , Into the fading bud the dew-drop gently slid ; Stronger grew the little form , and happy tears fell , As the dew did its silent work , and the bud grew well , While the gentle rose leaned , with motherly pride , O'er the fair little ones that bloomed at her side .
Night came again , and the XXXXX flew ; But the bud let them pass , and drank of the dew ; While the soft stars shone , from the still summer heaven , On the happy little flower that had learned the lesson given .
Father Spirits dew-drop dews fire-flies heart jewels life shouldst vest