THE FLOWERS OF EARLY JUNE. I. 159 
But leave these scarlet cups to spotted moths 
Of June, and glistening flies, and humming birds 
To drink from, when on all these boundless lawns 
The morning sun looks hot.” 
I know a little meadow which is sometimes scarlet 
with the painted-cup, and the sight of it links me in 
thought with our poet, and helps me to appreciate the 
picture which he saw. In my mind’s eye are blended 
now two pictures, one of a little New England meadow, 
and one of a broad Illinois prairie. If I could see the 
latter in reality I think it would look familiar merely 
because of the familiar painted-cup. 
