THE HIGH TIDE OF JOY 



'TT'S June, dear June; now God be praised for 

 JL June"; June, brooding above the timeworn earth, 

 enticing to life the glory of summertide; June, of sap- 

 phire skies and golden sunlight; June, of fragrant, flower- 

 scented nights; June, gypsying in the fields afire with 

 scarlet poppies, garlanding the marshes with iris, painting 

 blushes on the peonies of the gardens, and waking the 

 songs of birdland in ferny brake, in thickets, and in tree 

 top! What to compare with June? In what season of 

 the year is life more worth the living? 



Yesterday the columbines were supreme in the borders ; 

 they swung their trumpets in the breeze. And had our 

 ears been tuned to such fairy music we would have 

 known that to-day would be the royal pageant of the 

 iris. Some time in the early morning the bladed swords 

 guarding their loveliness were withdrawn, and now we 

 may behold them like a winged angelic host arrayed in 

 the palest silver, pearly white, and the purple of kings, 

 melting into the faint harmonies of rainbow tints that 

 might have been reflected from the foamy crest of an 

 ocean wave. 



74 



