CHAPTER X 



THE AUTUMN CROCUS 



" Tu viens, Automne, 

 Tu viens ensevelir dans tes habits de fete 

 Les cadavres couches au champ de leur de'faite." 



Aloys Blondel (the Swiss Poet). 



Perhaps the only flower to bless, and bless again, 

 the passage of the scythe over the damp slopes and 

 fields of Alpine Switzerland is Colchicum autumnale, 

 the so-called Autumn Crocus ; for, from the close- 

 cropped grass it pushes up its blossoms when all 

 other field-growth has done its utmost. What 

 sorry plight it would be in if the tall yellowing 

 plants and grasses were still left standing, cum- 

 bering the ground with a dense and matted vege- 

 tation ! It would be smothered ; or, at best, it 

 would have a fearsome struggle to see the sky. 

 One wonders how it contrived when, in ages past, 

 these meadows went uncut. One wonders if the 

 active appetites of browsing animals sufficed to 



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