^ The Scents of Early Summer $£ 



Was * La Belle Dame sans Merci ' the last exquisite vision 

 vouchsafed of this race ? 



I think the fairies we all love most are the flower 

 fairies, the fairies who play about in the scent of the 

 thyme and in and out of the foxgloves, swing themselves 

 in the bluebells and ring the exquisite little bells of the 

 wood-sorrel to summon Oberon and Titania's court to 

 their midnight revels. The pixies use the tulip flowers as 

 cradles, and there is a charming West Country tale of an 

 old woman who grew tulips in her cottage garden and 

 never allowed them to be gathered because of the 

 pixies. They could be heard at night singing their babies 

 to sleep, and these tulips lasted longer than any others and 

 their scent was sweeter than the scent of roses. When the 

 old woman died, the tulips were dug up and the garden 

 left desolate, but the pixies tended her grave and in 

 spring time planted it with wild flowers. And what of the 

 fairies' sea gardens ? The little rocks which they plant so 

 lovingly with tiny seaweeds, anemones and coralline, and 

 the green ' Mermaid's lace ' we see in pools ? What of 

 St. Brandan's Fairy Isle, which on summer evenings on 

 our western shores we behold bathed in the golden 

 splendour of the sunset ? And we all know the little fairy 

 gardens, the tiny patches of greensward starred with 

 minute sea-pinks in the sheltered pockets of our rocky 

 coasts. It is easy to believe the old tales of the fairy 

 music heard at night, the hundreds of little lights moving 

 about and the sweet perfume wafted far out to sea from 

 the small people's gardens. In our own gardens do we 

 not, every summer morning, see the fairies' handiwork — 

 the long hanging bridges and palaces we call cobwebs, 

 and which are amongst the loveliest and least earthly of 



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