7 8 FROM A MIDDLESEX GARDEN 



flowers, and hear them laughing in the new-born sunlight, 

 with what force comes the beauty of that peerless passage 

 spoken by the Preacher of the " days of youth, while the evil 

 days come not, nor the years draw nigh, when thou shalt say, 

 I have no pleasure in them. While the sun, or the light . . . 

 be not darkened, nor the clouds return after the rain." Our 

 own youth returns when we look into your bright eyes and 

 listen to your golden laughter, oh sweet, happy, innocent 

 little ones ! 



A low musical murmur comes from the insects, as they 

 flit like specks of gold in the noontide light among the 

 brown tangle of orchard branches, where one or two of the 

 more venturesome of the trees have arrayed themselves with 

 the white raiment of the blossoms. The tip of every twig on 

 the chestnuts glitters with a glazed bronze-coloured leaf-bud, 

 in which is snugly lying the downy leaves the perfectly- 

 formed spike of the blossom to be, the bursting buds looking 

 like so many half-opened eyes, sleepy yet with the dreams of 

 winter, looking upon the spring-dawn world, awakened by 

 the bird-music. Hyacinths in the garden perfume the air, 

 some uplifting their white spikes of flesh-like blooms, some 

 of spotless pink-like bells of carved coral. 



Quickly glides the sun towards the west ; each moment of 

 the day that his rays have kissed the earth has been the birth- 

 day to a million leaves and flowers. Ere the sun has set 

 night approaches with her chilly footsteps. The grey wood- 

 guests softly coo as they prepare for rest, and other birds 

 sing far into the dark amid the orchard branches, while not 

 far distant the rooks in their high home grow garrulous and 

 extremely noisy over their good-night gossip. 



