ROSA MYSTICA 



(and roses of autumn) 



. . . Rosa Sempiterna 



Che si dilata, rigrada, e ridole 



Odor di lode al Sol. . . . 



Sitting here, in an old garden by the sea, it 

 is difficult for me to realise that the swallow 

 has gone on her long flight to the South, that 

 last night I heard countless teal flying over- 

 head, and before dawn this morning the 

 mysterious honk-honk of the wild-geese. A 

 white calm prevails. A sea of faint blue and 

 beaten silver, still molten, still luminous as 

 with yet unsubdued flame, lies motionless 

 beneath an immeasurable dome of a blue as 

 faint, drowned in a universal delicate haze of 

 silver-grey and pearl. But already a change 

 to pale apple-green and mauve is imminent. 

 A single tern flashes a lonely wing along a 

 grey-green line that may be where sky and 



337 z 



