IN SILENT WOODS 



its season by the whitening of the globe-shaped 

 flower-buds hanging suspended above the sharp- 

 toothed, dark green leaves, which show light 

 marblings above and a dull mauve undertint. 



The trailing underground stem, sending out 

 both leaf and 

 flower branches, 

 being unseen, 

 makes every 

 group appear to 

 have a separate 

 existence, but 

 the hand that 

 seeks to trans- 

 plant them 

 works sad mis- 

 chief. 



The haunt 

 where we go 

 yearly to meet 

 this flower is on 

 a hillside. There 



giant Chestnuts touch branches, and the foot sinks 

 in soft moss and Ground Pine, and the Trailing 

 Christmas Green sets snares to trip the heedless. 

 The place is a sort of steep knoll, bounded by river 



