THE LAKE BY THE SEA 109 



also flourishes, the great mullein spreads its woolly 

 foliage, and the teasel rises tier on tier, each leaf- 

 cup holding a jewel caught from the last shower. 

 The hound's-tongue has parted with its dark blossoms, 

 but it owes its name to the seed-cases that now stick 

 in hundreds to the passer-by as he brushes against a 

 dying plant ; while the black henbane — that maligned, 

 yet not malignant herb — still opens pale maize- 

 coloured blossoms fretted with purple traceries round 

 the gloomy centre of each flower. Its scent so 

 strange, its foliage so exquisite, its power so tre- 

 mendous, make it attractive beyond common. Here 

 it abides dreaming amid the innocent, open-eyed, 

 familiar things — a creature apart, a plant of mystery 

 that still retains the keys of sleep and death. 



The lake stretches far away, all rippled with light 

 and wind, to the farther bank under a grove of 

 elms. Green reeds wave here in long, true lines 

 against the water, and where the breezes die and 

 the frosted silver of the ley passes into a placid 

 sheet along the margin, images of the upland and 

 wood are mirrored as in a glass, and shine — each 

 twig and sedge, each red hill and white cottage — 

 perfecdy reflected. Beneath the reeds a splash of 

 brighter green lies upon the water ; and the flower- 

 lover is glad, for he knows full well that the queen 

 of the lake dwells there and oHtters amid the sfreat, 

 sprawling masses of her foliage. All shades of green, 

 flecked with shining light from the sky, adorn these 



