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tTbe Jfragrant 1Rote Book 



sions which I have endeavoured to mould together for you, 

 have been gleaned from idle jottings in what I have familiarly 

 called " The Fragrant Note Book," and by your leave I shall 

 relate to you first a little waking dream which came to me 

 not long ago and which perchance will serve to unlock the 

 door into the inner garden as readily as any other key. 



V 



THE GARDEN ANTI PHONE' 



Sitting under the waning moon on a midsummer night, — 

 such a moon as an August night sometimes brings, — I heard 

 beneath my window the sound of impersonal voices. These ^ | 

 presently arranged themselves in what I might call 

 The Garden Antiphone. 



(The Garden Voice) 



Whispers here ! Whispers there! 

 Through my garden everywhere. 

 Voices, HO ! do you know 



WHAT MY GARDEN VISTAS SHOW? 



Children Maying, Farmers hajdng, 

 Lambs that frisk. Tree- tops swaying; 

 Sunny days. Honey days, 

 '' Lights and shadow always playing; 

 Birds alight and birds aflight 

 Coming, going, — mom 'till night. 



* Copyright, 1915, C. Arthur Coan. 



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