A breezy headland curving parallel rvith the 

 line of a fair horizon; some cat-boats and luggers 

 leaning against the sky; a smell of acacia rvhislied 

 along in br alien puffs; a wandering sound of un- 

 certain quality passing betreeen the white-capped 

 sea and the dusl^y pine woods afar; roses tossed 

 about on emerald sprays; great sea-birds winging 

 aloft — and I in the midst of this my Winter Garden, 

 loafing under a yaupon-tree. 



Maurice Thompson, 



"My Winter Garden" 



239 



