"To be successful, a garden must respond to and satisfy 

 man's longings for the beautiful." 



THOMAS H. MAWSON. 



NOVEMBER 



The garden speaks while pass the long sweet years 



Season by season through the land, and seeks 

 Our human friendships ; by her smiles and tears 

 The garden speaks. 



When time foots carelessly Spring's new fair weeks 



The garden tells of youth ; and all the joy it wears 

 In Summer sings of love's flow'r-time, where beaks 



Blithe bird its song. And then when Autumn bears 



Its promised gold, telling of life past prime and fears 

 For Winter, then it is of quiet rest that nears 

 The garden speaks. 



(GARDEN VOICES.) 



TT seems but yesterday the garden spoke of life and happi- 

 ^ ness, so clear was the sunlight, so unfaded the trees, for 

 Summer had stayed so long. The garden sinks to its silent 

 sleep, its beauty is in a grave covered beneath golden leaves. 

 Yet there are some blossoms that are bravely holding on to 

 life : the vine of the passion-flower is in many places a tangle 

 of Summer green, contrasting beautifully with the creeper by 

 its side all scarlet flushed. The warm red flowers of the 

 geranium, and roses with their June charm are with us ; also I 

 notice spikes of larkspur as blue and as clear as April's sky ; 

 it even seems as though representatives of each of the vanished 

 months had come to take a last farewell. Another garden 

 is without a flower ; the only token of its beauty is in the 

 tall dead feathers of the golden-rod now turned to silver with 



'73 S 



