UNDER THE PINES. 49 



pyrolas — the P. roiundifolia , light-veined, too, the P.ellip- 

 tica with richest perfume, and the P. secuyida whose droop- 

 ing bells look like lily of the valley. Goldthread, the pe- 

 tals of whose fragile white stars dropped at a touch, and 

 the purple green of fringed polygala, "May Wings," Su- 

 san Fenimore Cooper calls them, and it is such a fitting 

 name. Dalibarda, whose flowers seem made of white pa- 

 per, and the bright green of those dear loves, the mayfiow- 

 ers, whose fairest flowers are found under the pines. Not 

 the earliest, hungry and impatient, we search for those on 

 rocky knolls, where the blossoms are small, the stems short 

 and the leaves burnt by the hot suns to the color and con- 

 sistency of brown paper. They make no haste in the dream- 

 land under the pines. 



And in the spring, where the northward turning sun 

 shines in, the violets lift their modest faces, purple and yel- 

 low and white. The star flowers, the medeolas, the sarsa- 

 parillas, the lady's slippers, pink and yellow — of "the roy- 

 al family" — windflowers and rare anemones, are some 

 of the fair company. And though some of these will bloom 

 in the sunlight also, yet there their growth is rank and 

 coarse. They are slender, fragile, spiritualized, under the 

 pines. 



But where the twin-flower droops its bells, one falls on 

 bended knee, like humblest devotee. There is no word 

 which tells the magic power of this sweet flower — its scent 

 elusive, rare, that fills the holy place, its modest grace ; of 

 all flowers most fair — under the pines. 



