JUNE 



23 



He saw beneath dim aisles, in odorous beds, 

 The slight Linnaea hang its twin-born heads, 

 And blessed the monument of the man of flowers, 

 Which breathes his sweet fame through the north- 

 ern bowers. 



EMERSON: Woodnotes. 



Of all bird voices, none are more sweet and 

 cheerful to my ear than those of swallows, in the 

 dim, sun-streaked interior of a lofty barn ; they 

 address the heart with even a closer sympathy 

 than robin redbreast. 



HAWTHORNE: Mosses from an 01<l Manse. 



24 



Find the great fringed orchis out apparently two 

 or three days, two are almost fully out, two or 

 three only budded; a large spike of peculiarly 

 delicate, pale purple flowers growing in the luxu- 

 riant and shady swamp, amid hellebores, ferns, 

 golden senecio, etc. It is remarkable that this, 

 one of the fairest of all our flowers, should also 

 be one of the rarest, for the most part not seen 

 at all. . . . How little relation between our life 

 and its ! . . . The seasons go by, to us, as if it 

 were not. A beauty reared in the shade of a con- 

 vent, who has never strayed beyond the convent 



bell. 



THOKEAU: Summer. 



