186 STARLIGHT AND SUNSHINE. 
sciousness are betrayed in every petal! What a delight to the 
eye, what a perfect compendium to the disciple of “art for art 
alone”! Its bewildering complexity of flowing lines, its infinite 
modulations of form and light and shade and color, each curling, 
moulded petal in itself an epitome of art, with its half-tones, its 
single key-note of pure color, and its line of reflected sheen at 
the curling edge, where the borrowed hue tells of the sky or 
cloud, or, perhaps, of some neighboring sunny bloom. See the 
shadows of petal on petal transmitted through the sunlit glow 
of the overhanging corolla, while all below is painted with com- 
plex light and shade, each shaded petal nursing the shadow of 
itself within its chalice, each shadowed cup, again, lit up with 
reflected light frora within, and carrying around its edge that 
wondrous gamut of pearly grays which have been the despair of 
art. Yes, yes, I grant it all; it is ravishing. Paint me the rose, 
O Aré, and thenceforth hesitate at nothing! 
Verily may I conclude with Goethe, “Some flowers are lovely 
only to the eye, others are lovely to the heart.” Others, again, 
are lovely to the soul, and it is the wild garden alone that leads 
us into the clouds. 
