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EVENING RED AND MORNING GREY 



YOUR old-fashioned man with a care to his garden will 

 look through the quarrel of his window to spy weather 

 signs. This quarrel, the lozenge-pane of a window 

 made criss-cross, shows in its narrow frame a deal of 

 Nature's business, day and night. For your gardener 

 it takes the part of club window, weather glass and eye 

 hole onto his world. Through it day and night he 

 reviews the sky and the trees, the wind, the moon 

 and the stars. When he rises betimes there's the sky 

 for him to read. When he returns for his tea there 

 in the pane is the sunset framed. When he goes to 

 bed the moon rides past and the friendly stars twinkle. 

 No man is asked his opinion of the weather so much 

 as the gardener, except, may be, the shepherd ; both 

 men having, as it were, a Professorship in weather 

 given to them by the Public. It is they who have 

 given rise to, or even, perhaps, invented the rhymes by 

 which they go. 



Evening red and morning grey, 



Send the traveller on his way ; 



But evening grey and morning red, 



Send the traveller wet to bed. 



There is a verse full of ripe experience. The even- 

 ing sun glows red through the lozenge-panes and into 

 the cottage, lights up with sparks of crimson fire the 

 silver lustre ornaments, makes the furniture shine again, 



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