A BUNCH OF HERBS 



** I wandered lonely as a cloud 



That floats on high o'er vales and hills, 

 When all at once I saw a crowd, 



A host of golden daffodils, 

 Beside the lake, beneath the trees. 

 Fluttering and dancing in the breeze. 



" Continuous as the stars that shine 



And twinkle on the milky way, 

 They stretched in never-ending line 



Along the margin of a bay. 

 Ten thousand saw I at a glance, 

 Tossing their heads in sprightly dance.'* 



No such sight could greet the poet's eye 

 here. He might see ten thousand marsh 

 marigolds, or ten times ten thousand hous- 

 tonias, but they would not toss in the breeze, 

 and they would not be sweet-scented like 

 the daffodils. 



It is to be remembered, too, that in the 

 moister atmosphere of England the same 

 amount of fragrance would be much more 

 noticeable than with us. Think how our 

 sweet bay, or our pink azalea, or our white 

 alder, to which they have nothing that cor- 

 responds, would perfume that heavy, vapor- 

 laden air ! ( 



In the woods and groves in England, the 

 wild hyacinth grows very abundantly in 

 spring, and in places the air is loaded with 

 its fragrance. In our woods a species of 



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