WHEN SOUL HELPS FLESH 61 



the spheres, finer harmonies than the mighty hymn in 

 Beethoven's symphony. 



The roses are bursting their buds, the syringas nave 

 opened their crystalline blossoms with hearts of pure gold, 

 shedding fragrance sweeter than any other, and even the 

 weeds that rjave stolen entrance are looking their prettiest. 

 "Weeding hour is here; do not delay for beauty's sake," 

 warns the wise old gardener. "Little weeds grow to be 

 usurpers, little sins steal life away; therefore steel your 

 heart against them all" the saucy plantain "soldiers" 

 fringed so daintily with lace adornments, shepherd's purse 

 with silver bloom, the Indian hemp bent on conquest like 

 some young Samson, the encroaching burdock with trop- 

 ical foliage, and the crab grass as persistent and deter- 

 mined as a social climber. 



What enemy sowed them in the night? What a foot- 

 hold they have gained in moonlight growing, how nobly 

 constructed to dare and endure and to preserve their 

 family untarnished by degeneracy! Yet their energy is 

 misplaced, and this fine quality, so admirable, is ban- 

 ished from the garden to make green the waste places 

 along the roadside because they lack sweetness and light. 

 Mine be the garden of fragrance, of color, and of gentle 

 flowers; so let's to the weeding! 



The confidence of the birds is a continual wonder. 

 They have made themselves at home without once asking 

 "by your leave if you please," just as if they had read 



