O my garden, full of lilies, white as peace, and very tall/* 



PHILIP BOURKE MARSTON. 



JULY 



'TpHE light of kindling blossoms and the grateful shade 

 -* from leafy trees give solace to the hot July days. 

 Gardens now are blooming to perfection, and there are 



" Roses, roses, everywhere."" 



The mulleins, larkspurs, and foxgloves seem to be running a 

 race in their upward growth ; but the hollyhocks overtop each 

 of them, their beautiful stems rising so majestically from the 

 thick greenery of their root-leaves. 



" Heaven's breath smells wooingly here " 



in the garden, among the waving poppies, sweet peas, and 

 mignonette. The breath of heaven is sweet, too, in the 

 meadows, where by the river is waving the meadow-sweet ; 

 and, climbing every hedge, making ways golden with its 

 blossoms, the honeysuckle scents the air. The brightness of 

 the blossoms of rhododendrons and azaleas have passed away, 

 and now the nemophila makes the garden gleam with its blue 

 flowers, and a delightful contrast to its vivid colour is the 

 tender shade of the red valerian. Nor must we forget the 

 old-time tints, telling of the presence of Canterbury-bells and 

 campanulas, sweet-williams, and " lad's-love." With them 

 intermingle the golden-red stars of the 



" Marigold that goes to bed wi' the sun 

 And with him rises weeping ; these are flowers 

 Of middle summer." 



169 



