THE GARDENS OF THE SEA 47 



lowing, has kept its gardens to be a 

 thing of dreams, a picture in twelve 

 panels like the year. 



Down from the village runs the 

 dusty road; the plough uproots it, fall 

 and spring, and turns the turfy edge 

 and heaps it in a jolting crown. Fol- 

 lowing the plough, each autumn, 

 careless men lop with their stubble 

 scythes the wealth of flowers that make 

 the waysides bright, and bare the shift- 

 less fences. 



The straight road lies past low cot- 

 tages and onion fields; on either side 

 of it the land is treeless; there are no 

 birds but crows, that pry and sneak 

 behind the mullein stalks, watching 

 until some cottage woman comes to 

 give her chickens corn. The road 

 halts before a pair of bars, and with a 

 sudden angle takes an inland turn, and 

 at these bars the tillage stops, and all 



