SPRING FLOWERS 



me this critical quality, born doubtless of much 

 looking and comparing when I see, as I saw lately, 

 a garden comparatively small in compass but in- 

 comparably interesting, my heart fills with a plea- 

 sure not unlike the poet's at the sight of the cele- 

 brated daffodils. 



In this garden, some of it under tall trees, a 

 city garden not a hundred miles from where I 

 live, on a day in earliest June, there was to be 

 seen a most lovely flower grouping, in which the 

 following flowers had place: Masses of that 

 wonderful pinkish-mauve Iris pallida, Queen of 

 May, tall lupines of rich blue near by, with Iris 

 Madame Chereau back of this, while before the 

 group and among it were opening on tall stems 

 the luscious silken salmon-pink flowers of the 

 two Oriental poppies Mrs. Perry and Mary Stud- 

 holme. Below these the coral bells of heucheras 

 (alum-root) hung at the tops of slender swaying 

 stems, a slightly richer note of pink than the 

 poppies. 



As I beheld this beauty in flowers, I said to 

 myself: "Here is an end to adjectives." I have 

 none in which to adequately describe this loveliness. 

 It must be seen for its delicacy, its evanescent 

 quality. All who garden know the texture of 



