46 WORCESTER COUNTY HORTICULTURAL SOCIETY. [1904. 



our right beneath an overhanging pine, whose ancient branches 

 span the channel, bridging it from shore to shore, and casting 

 dancing shadows o'er the edge of the meadow, where the iris 

 is in full jjloom. Off to the left is an island, densely wooded 

 with pine, amid which may be seen the graceful forms of the 

 cherry, which in the earlier months made it a bower of beauty. 

 Away in the distance, at the upper end of the lake, may be 

 caught the gleam of the boulders, over which the mountain 

 torrent rushes to the calm waters of the lake. They are deeply 

 worn, and have been quaintly hurled from the higher ledges 

 by the force of the water, which, far above, issues through a 

 broken wall of native rock. We can almost hear the roar of 

 the falling water; and surely that is the lap of the waves, 

 lifting the lily-pads floating by the nearer shore, — or is it the 

 gurgle of the laughing stream, mockingly playing hide-and- 

 seek amid the stones and shrubs that half conceal the bed 

 in which it runs to slumber? We cannot tell; and yet, a 

 word, — there is no drop of water in all this scene, save wliat, 

 in buried tanks, holds life for the roots of the iris and lily grow- 

 ing by the banks. The lake of glistening sand, the island with 

 its cluster of dwarf pine, the mountain with its rocky gorge 

 and open cleft, the floating lily-pads, the blooming iris, — all 

 are here; and make a scene in which the soul delights and 

 to which the soul gives soul. 



" Spake full well, in language quaint and olden, 

 One who dwelleth by the castled Rhine, 

 When he called the flowers, so blue and golden, 

 Stars, that in earth's firmament do shine. 



Stars they are, wherein we read our history. 

 As astrologers and seers of eld ; 

 Yet not wrapped about with awful mystery, 

 Like the burning stars, which they beheld." 



All people of any fineness of culture have found in flowers, 

 as in the stars, appropriate symbols of elevated thoughts. To 

 the boor, the primrose by the river's brim may be only a prim- 

 rose; but to the poet it becomes transfused with a meaning 

 which is difficult to express in a language less refined. To 

 the Japanese flowers have a language difficult for us to com- 



