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THE ENGLISH FLOWER GARDEN. 



And if the snow shrouds the land, all's well, as the leaves of ever- 

 green plants, like Carnations, are at rest in it, and some plants are all 

 the better for the peace of the snow for a time. And even if our 

 eyes are not open to the beauty of the winter let us make the 

 flower-garden a real one for spring, summer and fall, as if it were 



true that in winter 



The year 



On the earth her deathbed, in a shroud of leaves dead, 

 Is lying. 



But it is not true : there is in winter no death, every root works 

 and every bud is active with life ; the wooded land is tender with 

 colour : Alders by the busy wintry stream and Birch on the airy hill, 

 Reeds fine in colour round the lake or marsh, and if even our wild 

 marsh or rough woodland be beautiful in winter, our gardens, with the 

 flora of three continents to gather from, should not then be poor in 

 beauty. No ! Winter is not a time of death, but of happy strife 



for plants and men. 



Until her 



Azure sister of the spring' shall blow 

 Her clarion o'er the dreaming earth, and fill 

 (Driving sweet buds like flocks to feed in air) 

 With living hues and odours plain and hill : 



Hazel catkins. From a drawing by H. G. Moon. 



