Let Us Say, &quot;He is Beautiful&quot; 203 



great plant of the Indian poke with its ruddy 

 stalks and great green leaves whose borders are 

 growing red, and its berries in panicles of most 

 royally dark crimson, while still the pink-white 

 blossoms persist in coming out at the ends of the 

 stems. 



Of course the juniper and the cedar are blue 

 with their masked cones, and the silvery lights 

 amid their greens add an elusive grace to the 

 charm, while over the fences and up the cedars 

 climbs the bittersweet, with its pendants of orange 

 berries, whose yellow envelopes have fallen back 

 to display them. The poison sumach is now 

 most splendid, and its drooping stems of whitish 

 berries add to its effect. Now and then, too, one 

 may hap to see by a rill side the unrivaled cardi 

 nal flower, and a colony of fringed gentians, the 

 most exquisite of fall flowers, and the most ca 

 pricious. Then, most characteristic of all of the 

 season, there steals upon the nostrils the wild 

 magic of the witch hazel s fragrance, so slight, so 

 subtle, so penetrating, so spiritual, that nothing 

 else in the odours of field and forest can be com 

 pared with it. 



What are all these, and the grasses, the mosses, 

 the lycopodiums, the lichens, the very moulds on 

 the rocks, but the expression in infinite various- 

 ness of the one constant Spirit that pauses not 



