126 THE FRIENDSHIP OF NATURE 



The sweet peas contract rather than 

 close; the single Dahlias lose their 

 rigidity, and almost all single flowers, 

 missing the sun's stimulus, twist or 

 droop. Even the vagrant pusley, with 

 palm pressed to palm, prays the night 

 wind for pity on its despised estate. 

 The morning-glories hold to dawn 

 their wine cups, drinking night out 

 and crying wassail to morning. In 

 what factory of crystal was their trans- 

 lucence fashioned? Were they con- 

 cealed in some treasure-laden tomb of 

 Nineveh? Did Venice foster them, or 

 is their beauty wholly Bohemian ? Who 

 dreamed their shaping, melting wide 

 rainbows for their colouring? Who 

 poised them on their standards? Was 

 it Palissy? No ! simply Nature, whose 

 workshop sends out all incomparable 

 things, fashioned them to meet Aurora's 

 pledging lips. 



