76 AN ISLAND GARDEN 



smooth and cool gray-green, as if to temper the 

 fire of the blossoms, which are smooth also, un- 

 like almost all other Poppies, that are crumpled 

 past endurance in their close green buds, and 

 make one feel as if they could not wait to break 

 out of the calyx and loosen their petals to the 

 sun, to be soothed into even tranquillity of beauty 

 by the touches of the air. Every cool gray-green 

 leaf is tipped with a tiny line of red, every flower- 

 bud wears a little pale-green pointed cap like an 

 elf, and in the early morning, when the bud is 

 ready to blow, it pushes off the pretty cap and un- 

 folds all its loveliness to the sun. Nothing could 

 be more picturesque than this fairy cap, and no- 

 thing more charming than to watch the blossom 

 push it off and spread its yellow petals, slowly 

 rounding to the perfect cup. As I hold the flower 

 in my hand and think of trying to describe it, I 

 realize how poor a creature I am, how impotent 

 are words in the presence of such perfection. It 

 is held upright upon a straight and polished 

 stem, its petals curving upward and outward into 

 the cup of light, pure gold with a lustrous satin 

 sheen ; a rich orange is painted on the gold, drawn 

 in infinitely fine lines to a point in the centre of 

 the edge of each petal, so that the effect is that 

 of a diamond of flame in a cup of gold. It is not 

 enough that the powdery anthers are orange bor- 

 dered with gold ; they are whirled about the very 

 heart of the flower like a revolving Catherine- 

 wheel of fire. In the centre of the anthers is a 

 shining point of warm sea-green, a last, consum- 

 mate touch which makes the beauty of the bios- 



