Am kuchtenden Sommermorgen 

 Geh* ich im Garten herum." 



HEINE. 



J ULY 



T1I7HAT a wealth of flowers line the river's margin. I 

 never see them but what a verse of Omar Khayyam's 

 comes to mind 



u And this reviving Herb, whose tender Green 

 Fledges the River's Lip on which we lean ; 



Ah ! lean upon it lightly! for who knows 

 From what once lovely Lip it springs unseen ! " 



In "The Sowers" is to be found the following passage 

 about rivers : " Men travel far to see a city, but few seem 

 curious about a river. Every river, nevertheless, has its 

 individuality, its great silent interest. Every river has, more- 

 over, its influence over the people who pass their lives within 

 sight of its waters. Thus, the Guadalquiver is rapid, mysteri- 

 ous, untrammelled. . . The Nile, the River of Ages, running 

 clear, untroubled, through the centuries, between banks un- 

 touched by man. The Rhine, romantic, cultivated, artificial. 

 . . . The Seine and the Thames, shallow, shallow, shallow. 

 And we who live upon their banks ! " There is a river 

 which winds through the 



" Fields near home ; 

 Where the fire-flowers blow, 

 And flowers of snow " 



poppies and marguerites that wave in the fields along its 

 banks. From my earliest remembrance I have grown familiar 

 with those blossoms whose 



" Tender green 

 Fledges the River's Lip." 



Long before I discovered their names I knew them by some 



