the country, a little while before they fall to the 
ground, but the clear bright clays soon change into 
cold, and chilly, and cloudy ones, and she willingly 
drops again into the bosom of our mother Earth, to 
escape the winter storms, and await the call of our 
father Sun when spring returns. You may now 
see her germ bursting forth alone to ripen for her 
autumnal festival. 
“ It is of her that another beautiful poet once 
said, 
And see—I’ve brought a little flower 
No lingerer it of summer’s train— 
Like Vesper star at Eve’s dim hour 
It comes, to deck pale Autumn’s bower 
And leaf-strown plain. 
“ I have many other beautiful cousins. There is 
the Pale Starry Crocus, whose tiny yellow gar¬ 
ments you see striped with black. That is the 
Cloth of Silver Crocus, with three stripes on 
each petal. Here is one just bursting from the 
