54 THE ENGLISH FLOWER GARDEN. 



" wings of gentle flush o'er delicate white," and 

 of its " taper fingers catching at all things." 



Clumps of hollyhock, crusted over with bloom, 

 should be planted near a sundial, or (as says the 

 author of the well-known essay on " The Poetry 

 of Gardening"), "in a long avenue, the double 

 and the single, not too straitly tied, backed by 

 a dark thick hedge of old-fashioned yew." 



Sunflowers, also in clumps, should stand out 

 here and there, and though the modern sceptics 

 may tell us that this American plant cannot be 

 the Clytie of Grecian story, it amply vindi- 

 cates its name by its large discs, surrounded 

 by golden rays. Tritomas should hold up their 

 scarlet maces to the sun, among tufts of the 

 Arundo conspicua, or (better still, if possible) of 

 Pampas grass. Lastly, we must not forget to 

 plant, for the sake of their delicious scent, as 

 the summer evening falls, the curious Schizo- 

 petalon, and the better known Mathiola, or 

 night-scented stock. 



But, besides its flowers, the garden is alive with 

 other happy forms of life. The blackbird, as the 



