June and Early July 



cies that a sort of reaction has set in after 



— " festival 

 Of breaking bud and scented breath," 



that which enchained our senses a few 

 weeks since. 



But the sight of a clover - field alone 

 suffices to dispel the thought. There is 

 no suggestion of exhaustion in the close, 

 sweet-scented, wholesome heads which 

 are nodding over whole acres of land. 



** South winds jostle them, 

 Bumblebees come, 

 Hover, hesitate, 

 Drink and are gone," 



sings Emily Dickinson, who elsewhere 

 calls the clover the 



— " flower that bees prefer 

 And butterflies desire." 



Indeed, although this is not a native 

 blossom, it seems to have taken a special 



50 



