Garden Airs and Graces 



had I guessed that valerian transferred from the 

 open border would acquire the delicate trans- 

 parency of meadow-rue; or that sweet-rocket, a 

 drift of mauve beneath the willow, has the same 

 light fluttering grace of wild geranium, that al- 

 ways blows in the half -shade. Even the sudden 

 blue of the anchusa, I need not explain to her. 

 She knows it plays the part of sky glimpsed 

 through the tops of trees. 



It is thus with a feeling of elation and of con- 

 fidence that I persuade her forward from so- 

 briety to the sunny stretch of color that flows 

 backward from my house. Here I may set her 

 free of guidance and be sure she will find com- 

 pany; for to her no flower is dowdy because it is 

 old-fashioned, or vulgar because common, or poor 

 if it but does its part. I prefer, however, to fol- 

 low at her heels, waiting on her quick discoveries 

 and her slow loitering, and finding all the while 

 a pleasurable freshness in my handiwork as seen 

 through her enchanted eyes. 



Her first comment is a chuckle at my obedience 

 to fashion. So I too like yellow — ^that discarded 

 color; yet not so bravely that I do not keep my 

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