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(Sartien's Storj). 



denuded of foliage, smiling at the cold and snow. 

 Does it not convey a meaning? Its pale-yellow 

 petals speak to me of immortality, and its fra- 

 grant breath exhales a promise of coming flowers. 

 What more remains to say of the garden, 

 now shorn of its beauty, except that each year 

 one learns to love it more? Alone, defying 

 frost and sleet, the tall blue monk's-hood spires 

 remain, to be stricken down in turn, and patient- 

 ly await the dawn of spring. 





