2 BRAMBLES AND BAY LEAVES, 



tion and solace, is, at the same time, the best adapted for the con- 

 tinual exercise of the visual powers. The soft azure heaven, which 

 folds us in its dewy arms, and lifts our souls nearer up to God, is said 

 to derive its beauty from the refraction of the rays of light in passing 

 through the air. The lovely green hue which overspreads the earth 

 like the laughter of Nature herself, and which, by its winning tender- 

 ness, seems planted here to make the soul contented with its earthly 

 lot, is caused by the abundant and universal growth of grass, which 

 is, indeed, the poetic spirit of the world, for it hides, with a delicious 

 verdure, the grim realities of nature, and clothes the sordid facts of 

 earth and iron with a garment of life and beauty. From the constant 

 freshness, fragrance, and fruitfulness of grass, it has been a hallowed 

 thing in all ages of the world, and has mingled alike with the out- 

 pourings of the human heart, the voices and harmonies of nature in 

 her teachings of poetic love, and the struggles for power or freedom, 

 and the grim scenes wherein the human heart has paid the tribute of 

 its blood to superstition, oppression, and despotism. It would seem 

 meet, therefore, that something should be said of grass and other 

 green things in order that those who tread on them unheedingly, 

 may know something of their history, and those who have listened to 

 the teachings of the out-door world, and welcomed its verdure into 

 their sanctuary of love, may have its memories and images awakened 

 within them, and so learn to love it more. 



Then to the enamell'd meads 

 Thou go'st ; and as thy foot there treads, 

 Thou seest a present God-like power 

 Imprinted in each herb and flower. 



Herrick. 



"Green things!" — and the mind calls them up in numberless 

 pictures, that the heart may feastupon their beauty. '' Green things," 

 and we think of Virgil and his brown bees, Longus and his happy 

 children, Keats and his green trees, " sprouting a shady boon for 

 simple sheep ; " Chaucer and his dear daisies, which he rose early to 

 see " against the sun spread ; " Robin Hood and the Lincoln green ; 

 Shakspere, Spenser, and Herrick, with their multiplied images, pic- 

 tures, and allusions ; all living and fresh from the green world itself, 

 and redolent of lime-tree perfume, dank moss, woodland echoes, 

 velvet meadows, and all the associations which cling like halos of 

 light around them. With green things, the human heart grows larger. 



