162 
THE HEART OF A GARDEN 
prolonged, raucous, the voice of an offended female. It 
is that a matronly lady of the house of Orpington finds 
her nest already occupied; and although there are a 
dozen else to choose from, she will have that or none. 
The white birds swing into the air. There will be no 
transformation to-day. 
So white with frost my garden lies, 
So still, so bright, my garden is, 
For sure the fields of Paradise 
Show not more fair than this: 
The streets of pearl, the gates of gold, 
Are they, indeed, more peace-possessed 
Than this white pleasaunce, pure and cold, 
Against an amber West ? 
