NOVEMBER 249 



wholly dull whose pages are set with the words 

 which must be set there over and over lily, 

 rose, shadow, sunlight, April, September ! 

 It makes me have but scanty patience until 

 my book too is admitted to the outermost 

 fringes of so delightful a companionship, and 

 I set forth my white-paper thoughts all the 

 more confidently and gladly because between 

 them lie so much that I have inherited from 

 their store. 



In the twilight the Pleiades are shining, and 

 the great suns of Orion are rising, so that I 

 know November is here. I make haste to 

 blot out all that I said of the other months, 

 save April only, and declare that this is the 

 year's high holiday. Its colours alone will I 

 wear, as I set forth to do battle in its praise. 

 " November hath an evil name in sooth ! " 

 cries one, " and as for its garden it hath no 

 garden." The more need of a champion, dear 

 and true ! since thou art so belied ! 



When we look back to May we remember 

 the haste we made to be glad because of the 

 perfecting of young leaves. Why is there not 

 an equal rejoicing in the first days of the bare 

 boughs ? We realise with a shock of remem- 



