THE FORGET-ME-NOT

Timaru Herald, Volume CXXXVIII, Issue 19959, 17 November 1934, Page 13

THE FORGET-ME-NOT

I wonder if you know story of how the forget-me-not got its name? It goes like this:— Long, long ago, when the Maker of all things had finished His work, He sat down to rest. He had worked very hard. First of all He had had to make everything that He had thought of. and, as His mind had been simply full of things to make, it had taken a long time. Then He had had to find names for everything that He had made, and that had taken even longer. But at last it was done. Every little fish that swam, every little bird that flew, every little flower

HOW IT GOT ITS NAME

that opened in the spring, had been given a name. The Maker of all things heaved a great sigh. He was glad to rest. “Now,” He said, “they can take care of themselves. 1 needn’t bother about them for a bit.” But no sooner had He said the words than He heard a little very timid voice. “Don’t forget about me!” it said. He looked all round, but at first He didn’t know where the voice came from. Then He looked right down at His feet. No wonder He hadn’t seen it. It was so small. Just a tiny flower, with a soft blue face, looking up at Him. and a little golden heart. The Maker of all

things looked at it. “Did I make that?” He said. “It is rather lovely. I suppose I did make it, but I had forgotten all about it. Oh, dear,” sighed the Maker of all things. “There are so many of them. Why did I make so many?” “Well, little flower,” He said, “what is it that you want of me?” “Please,” said the little goldenhearted flower, “you never gave me a name. I should like a name. It isn’t nice to be forgotten. Oh, don’t forget me.” The Maker of all things looked at the little flower, and He looked and He looked, but He could think of no name for it. His brain was tired by this time. He had named so many millions of things. He almost wished He had never made the little blue flower. Still, it wasn’t fair that it should have no name, when every other flower that grew had one. “I don’t know,” He said. “I don’t know. I think perhaps you had better be called ‘Forget-me-not.’ For you came to me and made me remember something beautiful that I had forgotten. And that was a good thing to do. Ido not like to gorget beautiful things. To make up for having been forgotten I will give you a special gift. Whenever you are given to anyone, whenever anyone sees you on a mossy bank or on a garden path, he will think of some beautiful person or some beautiful thing that he had forgotten. You will live in the world as a reminder of beauty.” And it was so. Whenever a human being looks down at the little bluefaced flower with the golden heart l-p remembers something beautiful. And the little flower looks up and is glad.