MARGUERITES AND POPPIES 81 



arrives, along with or close on the trail of the 

 earliest grasses. Once rooted, it loses no time in 

 spreading. It careers on its unimpeded way, 

 through cornfield, meadow, and marsh. Mile on 

 mile of flat country, with few signs of man's abode, 

 save the solitary farm, or clump of cotter houses, 

 it crosses. 



With a break, where the train descends to the 

 level of the surrounding country, it reappears 

 beyond. Thus, during the bright months of the 

 year, it transforms what would otherwise be an 

 eyesore into an elevated garden a scene of great 

 natural beauty. We forgive the railway embank- 

 ment, when it is there, for the sake of the 

 marguerite. No other device, especially on flat 

 scenes, would serve as well. 



It is not a daisy not a thing of the sun. 

 Scarce would it be too much to say that it is 

 rather a thing of the twilight. It looks, with its 

 great open eye large enough to catch every ray 

 out on the luminous dark of the summer night. 

 Those who go forth to see find it loveliest on the 

 softly shaded atmosphere. One who has not 

 looked then, does not know the marguerite. 



Often in my summer wanderings have I ap- 

 proached the banks, long after sunset, near enough 



