THE PAGEANT OF SUMMER 



pause, the light would be apparent through 

 their texture. On the wings of the dragon- 

 fly as he hovers an instant before he 

 darts there is a prismatic gleam. These 

 wing textures are even more delicate than 

 the minute filaments on a swallow's quill, 

 more delicate than the pollen of a flower. 

 They are formed of matter indeed, but 

 how exquisitely it is resolved into the 

 means and organs of life! Though not 

 often consciously recognised, perhaps this 

 is the great pleasure of summer, to watch 

 the earth, the dead particles, resolving 

 themselves into the living case of life, to 

 see the seed-leaf push aside the clod and 

 become by degrees the perfumed flower. 

 From the tiny mottled egg come the wings 

 that by and by shall pass the immense 

 sea. It is in this marvellous transforma- 

 tion of clods and cold matter into living 

 things that the joy and the hope of 

 summer reside. Every blade of grass, 

 each leaf, each separate floret and petal 

 is an inscription speaking of hope. Con- 



