A FLOWER OF THE HOUR. 11 



I cross over to visit them, to dream with them, 

 to pay homage unto them by night as well as 

 by day. Genii of Inspiration wherever thou 

 doth dwell how many, many mortals do call 

 upon thee to aid them in seeking fame, yet how 

 often, how often, are the calls unanswered! 

 Many conditions must arise, converge, meet at 

 a common point, cross and merge, before the 

 hour is ripe for thy work to be done. 



The prunella, 8 flower of the hour, has greeted 

 me from many places as I trudged along this 

 morn. A lowly herb it is, yet to my eyes ever 

 pleasing ; the bluish purple of its upper lip con- 

 trasting prettily with the paler purple of the 

 lower and lateral lobes. The cylindrical head, 

 topping the main stem and giving forth its 

 flowers at irregular intervals from May unto 

 October, is often slightly bowed, as if in rever- 

 ence to that sun, "Lord of the grass and the 

 hill/' which ruleth over all. Flower of the 

 shade it is, lowly herb of the brooklet's rim and 

 the scantily grass-clothed slopes. The purplish 

 upper lip reflects the blue of the sky the paler 

 lower one, the purity of the sod, the elements 

 of earth, of growth. As the season ages the 

 opposite oblong lanceolate leaves, one to two 

 inches in length and borne on daintily fringed 

 petioles, often turn a handsome pinkish red, 

 first on the under side, then above. One now 



8 Prunella vulgaris L. 



