leaves one over another; the blue lupine, which ^jq^^^ MMER 

 has leaves shaped like a hand, closes its fingers DREAM 

 and lets its arms fall against its stalk; the bal- 

 sam drops its leaves toward the earth; the day 

 lilies close their blue and yellow flowers; the 

 water-lily gathers its petals together even 

 before night has come. But the night has its 

 flowers which sleep during the day and awake 

 while the others sleep. 



The night has also its birds and insects. You 

 hear the whistle of the blackbird and the song 

 of the robin in the morning — the nightingale 

 sings through the night. 



See that large moth hovering over the even- 

 ing primrose. It passes by the sleeping flowers, 

 over the primrose it hovers and sucks the 

 honey from its depths. The moth is not less 

 beautiful because it flies only by night. Its 

 wings of gray, shaded by browns and blacks; 

 its body painted with white, rose-colored, and 

 black rings — make it one of the beautiful 

 things of the night. 



We think of the night as made to sleep in, 

 but the fact is it is full of life and movement. 

 Flying wings glisten in the starlight, and out 

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