THE PAGEANT OF SUMMER 



is toned by so much green. Clover heads 

 of honey lurk in the bunches and by the 

 hidden footpath. Like clubs from Poly- 

 nesia the tips of the grasses are varied in 

 shape, some tend to a point the foxtails 

 some are hard and cylindrical; others, 

 avoiding the club shape, put forth the 

 slenderest branches with fruit of seed at 

 the ends, which tremble as the air goes 

 by. Their stalks are ripening and becom- 

 ing of the colour of hay while yet the 

 long blades remain green. 



Each kind is repeated a hundred times, 

 the foxtails are succeeded by foxtails, the 

 narrow blades by narrow blades, but never 

 become monotonous; sorrel stands by 

 sorrel, daisy flowers by daisy. This bed of 

 veronica at the foot of the ancient apple 

 has a whole handful of flowers, and yet 

 they do not weary the eye. Oak follows 

 oak and elm ranks with elm, but the wood- 

 lands are pleasant; however many times 

 reduplicated, their beauty only increases. 

 So, too, the summer days; the sun rises on 



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