21 
sometimes like yours ; for you have these looking- 
glasses too. 
“ But I must not forget to tell you about the 
poet of Paradise. Did you never hear him sing 
i 
about the first house that ever was made ? I am 
sure there never has been one since half so beau¬ 
tiful. I have heard my mother say, that when men 
make houses now, they kill those tall trees, which 
are much too large for us Crocuses ever to under¬ 
stand, and cut them up, with a world of trouble ; 
but God himself made that first bower. 
The roof 
Of thickest covert was inwoven shade, 
Laurel and Myrtle, and what higher grew 
Of firm and fragrant leaf;—on either side 
Acanthus, and each odorous bushy shrub, 
Fenced up the verdant wall; each beauteous flower, 
Iris all hues, Roses and Jessamine, 
Reared high their flourished heads between, and w'rought 
Mosaic; under foot the Violet, 
Crocus and Hyacinth, with rich ijday 
Bordered the ground. 
