132 May The Lily of the Valley. 



comes a film of moisture across my eyes, not quite con- 

 sistent perhaps with the hardness of perfect manhood. 

 But let each of us live after his own nature ; for of the 

 two figures that we remember as most characteristic of 

 the middle ages, the poet lying on the earth all through 

 the sunny day dreaming and doting on the flowers, and 

 the knight sheathed in complete steel crushing them 

 under the hoofs of his war-horse and sullying them 

 with the blood of his enemy, -it is the first who has 

 my sympathy. Where in the world can there be any 

 thing more perfect than these lilies of the valley ? Look 

 at their twin-leaves, outlined so delicately, just two of 

 them, perfect as the wings of a bird, and the few white 

 bells that tremble on the slender stalk, shedding the 

 sweetest perfume ! Be sure that here we have one of 

 Nature's most complete conceptions. You may look 

 upon a mountain and wish that it were loftier or more 

 precipitous, upon a river and wish that it were clearer, 

 upon a tree and desire for it some farther spreading 

 of its boughs, some richer filling of its foliage, but 

 you cannot look upon a lily of the valley and wish it 

 to be other than it is. Only one addition is possible, 

 and that is given in the cool of the early morning, when 

 there hangs upon each of those fairy bells one pure, 

 bright drop of dew. 



It is curious that a plant so humble and sweet as this 

 should have had a great reputation for giving strength 

 to the weary and the weak ; but with that strangely 

 groundless faith that characterized the pre-scientific 

 ages, our forefathers were quite strongly convinced 



