GARDENS IN LITERATURE 



she walked acted as a sounding board to this delicious 

 voice. The little path wound on and on between two 

 running rills of water, which slipped incessantly away 

 underthe broad and yellow-tipped leaves of dwarf palms, 

 making a music so faint that it was more like a remem- 

 bered sound in the mind than one which slid upon the ear. 

 On either hand towered a jungle of trees brought to this 

 home in the desert from all parts of the world . . . 

 thickets of scarlet geranium flamed in the twilight The 

 hybiscus lifted languidly its frail and rosy cup, and the 

 red-gold oranges gleamed amid leaves that looked as if 

 they had been polished by an attentive fairy . . . . Under 

 the trees the sand was yellow, of a shade so voluptu- 

 ously beautiful that she longed to touch it with her bare 

 feet. . . . Never before had she fully understood the en- 

 chantment of green . . . rough, furry green of geranium 

 leaves, silver green of olives, black green of distant palms 

 from which the sun held aloof, faded green of the eucalyp- 

 tus, rich, emerald green of fan-shaped, sunlit palms, hot 

 sultry green of bamboos, dull, drowsy green of mulberry- 

 trees and brooding chestnuts. It was a choir of colours 

 in one colour, like a choir of boys all with treble voices 

 singing in the sun. 



"Gold flickered everywhere, weaving patterns of en- 

 chantment, quivering, vital patterns of burning beauty. 

 Down the narrow branching paths that led to inner mys- 

 teries the light ran in and out, peeping between the 

 divided leaves of plants, gliding over the slippery edges 



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