THE SUNSET OF OUR YEAR 
125 
Never have the flower-beds and borders looked gayer 
than now—I had almost said gaudier, but the term is 
too full-flavoured. The riotous nasturtiums burn with 
hard, gem-like flames along their lusty trails of round 
fresh leaves, some clambering higher and higher, and 
others content to grow into veritable bushes, elbowing 
their neighbours with a will. 
Orange and lemon-hued marigolds stoutly hold their 
own, stiff as grenadiers; the golden sun-flower and its 
pensive sister, the moon-flower, with its delicate disc, 
whose colour hovers between silver and primrose, grow 
in beauty side by side, towering above their neighbours 
as their faces follow the sun. Lux tua via mea . What 
fairer device could there be for flower or mortal ? 
Even in the act of fading they keep a certain, although 
a different charm; the radiant petals wither and dis¬ 
appear, but a firm green halo encircles the closely serried 
disc of shining seeds coloured like empurpled ebony. 
I woke at early dawn “ one misty, moisty morning ” 
a little while ago with a most strange illusion of spring 
that haunted the way from sleep to wakening. “ Yes, 
it is; yes, it is, 5 ’ piped the shrill silvery voices over and 
over in elfin gaiety. And it was; for, looking out, I 
could faintly discern the tits clad in their dim and 
delicate blues and greens and jaunty black velvet caps 
pouncing and swinging hither and thither upon the 
dark bosses of the ripened seeds, with the self-same airy 
gossip and tinkling laughter with which in spring they 
had swung and pounced amid the apple blossom. 
It was as though the ghost of spring had flitted 
through the garden. 
