202 
CHILDREN'S GARDENS 
vi 
And all the heather-bells, 
Over the moorland fells, 
Ring autumn in. 
Autumn with golden sheaves, 
Autumn with golden leaves, 
Dying in state ; 
Ring, for the dying year, 
In glory shining here, 
Must yield to fate. 
Then winter rules again, 
With its long icy reign 
Of war and strife ; 
But from beneath the snow 
White tender snowdrops grow, 
Bringing new life. 
And nature seems to cry, 
My pulses cannot die, 
They cannot cease ; 
And all the snow-bells clear 
Ring through the cold dead year, 
Come hope and peace. 
Hon. Sybil Amherst, Flower Chimes. 
Thus the seasons roll round, each one 
bringing its own charms, its own joys, and its 
own duties. Every child that tends a garden, 
no matter how small it may be, will watch the 
months with tenfold interest as the year passes 
from growth to decay, and back again to the 
dawn of new life and spring. Each successive 
