DAYS IN MY GARDEN 



for partners their white sisters, in this spot less 

 common than the yellow ! I had no words to describe 

 their beauty as the white curtsying heads revealed 

 on their undersides touches of almost metallic blue : 

 their grace, their charm was perfect. I stepped with 

 care on upland bog to avoid crushing a host of Primula 

 farinosa, butterworts, Gentiana verna, bavarica and 

 acaulis. I climbed the col and in the mountain 

 torrent-bed of pebbles found great round cushions 

 of Silene acaulis and in the wet moraine Ranunculus 

 glacialis. A legion of saxifrages, starred mossy things, 

 some encrusted as if with a summer hoar-frost, and 

 strange sempervivum, all cobweb spun, that I am sure 

 could never please the neat housewife. A rock garden 

 of mad dreams a land of gardens gone wild ! Nay, 

 it is but ' Nature in her Divine purity,' utterly beyond 

 description, impossible to compare with our English 

 fields and hills. On such rambles I am always most 

 conscious of one thing, an overwhelming feeling of 

 weakness, the weakness of exhausted admiration, a 

 sense of insufficiency of appreciation : beauty too 

 great to grasp. 



Again I span the space. At home I see the English 



