FIELD FLOWERS 



is to recite a poem of grace and light. 

 We have reserved for them the most 

 charming, the purest, the clearest 

 sounds and all the musical gladness of 

 the language. One would think that 

 they were the persons of a play, dancers 

 and choristers of an immense fairy- 

 scene, more beautiful, more startling 

 and more supernatural than the scenes 

 that unfold themselves on Prospero's 

 Island, at the Court of Theseus, or in 

 the Forest of Arden. And the comely 

 aftresses of this silent, never-ending 

 comedy goddesses, angels, she de- 

 vils, princesses and witches, virgins and 

 courtezans, queens and shepherd-girls 

 carry in the folds of their names the 

 magic sheens of innumerous dawns, of 

 C 76 3 



