THE GARDEN AT HOME 



tide on the wings of fragrance, wafted by twilight 

 flowers, by Night-scented Stock, and Evening Primrose. 



Since a flower without sweet scent is like a jewel 

 without its setting, I would have borders of odorous 

 blossom near the windows of the house, that none 

 might forget how much flowers owe to fragrance ; more 

 often than not it is the only safeguard between them and 

 oblivion. But, most of all, my garden should be full of 

 the Spirit of Life, all the flowers breathing a word of 

 welcome. Growing as seems best to them, some would 

 nod a friendly greeting at the faintest whisper of the 

 summer wind ; others, with no less warmth yet greater 

 dignity, would bend with grace and stateliness ; while 

 some, distant most of all, yet not unkind, would show 

 their beauty only to those who cared to seek them out. 

 Flowers, old-fashioned, yet not on that account forgotten, 

 should fringe the meanest path, that even the lowliest 

 bloom might join in the universal cry of " Salve " to the 

 stranger at the gates. 



And that the flowers' farewell should be no less real, 

 I would have plants full of fair blossom from the entrance 

 to the exit of the garden, that there might come to the 

 departing friend a " Vale " all full of fragrant breath. 

 On the woodland fringe, where wood and garden meet, 

 soft-treading paths of Thyme would show the way to 

 glades of gloom and solemn grandeur, where, at high 

 noon, for the body there is shelter from the sun and 

 melodious woodland music for the mind. 



104 



