308 Old Time Gardens 



must have heard of it. The gipsy in it says : l Life is 

 sweet, brother. There's day and night, brother, both 

 sweet things ; sun, moon, and stars, brother, all sweet 

 things ; there is likewise a wind on the heath.'" 



HE (dubiously). "That's rather queer poetry, if it is poetry 

 and you must know I do not like to hear you call me 

 brother." 



Whereupon I discreetly betrayed my near presence 

 on the piazza, to prove that the field, though still, 

 was not deserted. And soon the twain said they 

 would walk to the club house to view the golf 

 prizes ; and they left the Wild Thyme and Elder 

 blossoms white, and turned their backs on the moon, 

 and fell to golf and other eminently unromantic 

 topics, far safer for Midsummer Eve than poesy and 

 other sweet things. 



