Si 



elecampane, mint, bergamot, " Texas sage," 

 rue, catnip, hoarhound, bestrew the whole 

 space, cluster thick at foot of the paling, 

 cling and abide at root of all the shrubs, or 

 in the line of tall hollyhocks the gardens' 

 one trace of preciseness. Good in their 

 place, one and all for comfort, or flavor, or 

 healing of small hurts. Not from them, 

 though, does the wise woman draw her store. 

 See this tall, weedy stalk, thick beset with 

 purple blossoms, with dull, dark, rough, 

 green leaves. Virtue untold inheres in it, 

 root and leaf what virtue, only the wise 

 woman can tell. Some part of it cures 

 green wounds, some part fevers, some part 

 assuages the angriest hurt. Its neighbor 

 comes, I think, from the swamp. It has 

 brown, weeping stems, thick sown with 

 feathers of gray -green leaves. Daphne 

 whispers a pillow of them is the one sure 

 help for sleepless eyes. Tea of these mat- 

 ted green stems over against, banishes va- 

 pors, warms the cockles of the heart. In- 

 deed it were too long to tell of all the wild, 

 strange growths here flourishing side by 

 side. Gathered from all the four sides of 

 wood and field, they are plucked each in 

 its season, brewed with barks and roots 

 and seeds into potion or philter healing 

 6 



