AN ISLAND GARDEN 73 



has wooed a graceful company of drooping buds 

 to blow, and their cups of delicate fire, orange and 

 yellow, sway lightly on stems as slender as grass. 

 In sheltered corners the Forget-me-not spreads its 

 cool, heaven-blue clusters ; by the fence " the Lark- 

 spurs listen " while they wait ; the large purple 

 Pansies shrink and turn from the too brilliant gaze 

 of the sun. Rose Campions, Tea Roses, Mignon- 

 ette, Mangolds, Coreopsis, the rows of Sweet Peas, 

 the broad-leaved Hollyhocks and the rest, rejoice 

 and grow visibly with every moment of the glori- 

 ous day. Clematis and Honeysuckle almost seem 

 to hurry, Nasturtiums reach their shield-like leaves 

 and wind the stems thereof round any and every 

 stick and string they can touch by which to lift 

 themselves, here and there showing their first 

 glowing flowers, and climbing eagerly. The long 

 large buds of the white Clematis, the earliest of 

 all, are swelling visibly before my eyes, and the 

 buds of the early June Honeysuckle are reddening 

 at the end of every spray. In one corner a tall 

 purple Columbine hangs its myriad clustered 

 bells ; each flower has six shell-like whorls set in a 

 circle, colored like rich amethysts and lined with 

 lustrous silver, white as frost. Cornflowers like 

 living sparks of exquisite color, rose and azure, 

 white and purple, twinkle all over the place, and 

 the heavenly procession begins in good earnest. 

 The Grapevine smooths out its young leaves, 

 they are woolly and crimson ; the wind blows and 

 shows me their grayish-white under surfaces. I 

 think of Browning's tender song, the verse, 



