JULY 151 



blossoming and fading of the few flowers, and 

 to breathe the air that made it worth while to 

 lengthen the day by being in the lane before 

 the dawn left it. 



Once, in those languid days, I made a little 

 list of the people I should like to have share 

 my garden walks. For the dawn-hour I chose 

 three Chaucer first, because of his rapturous 

 greeting of the daisies ; Jeffries next, because 

 the dayspring itself was his, to have and to 

 share ; Corot was the third. Already he had 

 opened my eyes to many things which have 

 always been before them, but which, but for 

 him, they had been too full of day glare to 

 perceive. In the misty half-hour before sun- 

 rise what could he not point out to me ! How 

 cool, how vague, how silvery white-and-green 

 all things would be ! The little leaves, 

 refreshed by the stillness and darkness as 

 much as by the dews, would offer, each one, 

 his pearl of dew to the returning day. The 

 cool grey clouds would be reflected in the 

 water of the pond, over which willows would 

 lean, and on whose banks, to the singing of 

 half-awakened birds, fauns and nymphs would 

 have just left off dancing. No haste, but all 



